Down East Decisions
by FlyYouFools
Summary: Massachusetts State Police Capt. Emma Swan leaves her red-hot career to become the police chief of sleepy Storybrooke, Maine. She's hoping for a less-complicated, less-dangerous life, a desire that is dashed on both counts. AU. No magic. Crime drama and romance. Swan Queen is endgame. Cover art by the wonderful lrbcn.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: AU, no magic, set in present day. I've aged Emma (and, therefore, Regina) up a bit to fit the story.**

As far as hangovers went, Emma Swan had endured worse.

Her pounding head and achingly dry mouth were mitigated by the fact she woke up with her head pillowed against a young, firm and generously sized naked breast. Opening her other eye, she spied its twin, in equally lush condition.

"Good morning," a silvery voice purred.

Emma tried to place it but couldn't, her brain quickly registering the fact that she was naked, along with her bedmate, whose warm limbs wrapped her in a firm embrace. She shifted her legs slightly, her mind cataloging another tidbit: Emma and her acquaintance had enjoyed a thoroughly good time last night.

"Hey," Emma groaned. She propped herself up onto an elbow to assess her companion.

"I'm not a hooker," the young woman declared softly.

"What?" Emma's training kicked in immediately as she appraised the woman. Young - very young - early '20s, she surmised. Shoulder-length, jet-black hair, brown eyes, olive skin. Something ethnic. Light-skinned Hispanic? Biracial, for sure.

"Your friends, they didn't pay me to sleep with you. They just paid for the dances. This…" she explained, waving a hand around the bed, "this was something I wanted. I dance, but I don't trick."

_Ah_. The mention of a dance brought most of the evening back in a flash: her going-away party. The guys in the barracks had taken Emma out for one last swing around town to get her good and pissed before she left for her new job. There was dinner at the Capital Grille, but the real festivities began later in the back room at Duggan's Tap. A $500 gift card to L.L. Bean ("More flannel, Swan!" Smitty roared), an Elmer Fudd-esque hunting hat and a series of lap dances from her new friend, which apparently progressed to a bed.

Friends and colleagues were shocked at Emma's decision to leave the State Police. At 36, she was on a meteoric rise. Already a captain, those who liked to speculate were taking money she'd be running the entire agency within 10 years. She was any PR-obsessed politician's dream: beautiful, female and gay – the perfect combination for the progressive state.

Long-accused of being an insular, crooked, lazy, patriarchal organization of glorified ticket writers on the Mass Pike, any governor would be able to roll out his well-spoken, college-educated, decorated officer and easily diffuse any charge of sexism or exclusion. How terrible could the State Police of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts be if it was under the direction of Colonel Emma Swan?

_Colonel Emma Swan._ It certainly had a ring to it, and the title was one that the talented, ambitious trooper found endlessly alluring. Until, that is, Emma Swan realized she wanted more. In the end Emma wasn't sure what it was that made a born-and-raised Boston girl suddenly yearn for a slower way of life. Maybe it was all her work with the gang unit, which depressed her beyond belief watching young life after young life ruined at best, ended at worst. Perhaps it was the drug trade, which was growing more deadly and dangerous each year. And the events of last April, well, they just went to prove that even her beloved city wasn't immune to the insanity of the world.

Her friends urged her to hang on, only a few more years in the field – five, tops – after which she'd be promoted to a rank in which she would be behind a desk. But that wasn't where Emma wanted to be, nor did she relish the fact that she was destined to be a token promotion. She was outstanding at her job and earned every accolade, but Emma knew she would never have been seen solely on her merits. There would always be some asshole who would think she got the stars on her shoulders because she was a woman - and a gay one, at that. Emma refused to hide her sexuality – if asked she would tell, without hesitation or shame. Yet neither did she parade it around. Even in the 21st century sadly she knew she faced an uphill battle - a woman in law enforcement. Because if someone was sexist, there's a good chance they were homophobic, too.

"Oh, yeah, well, I wasn't…I didn't." Emma stammered, unsure of how to proceed. "Where are we?" She looked around; it was obvious they were in a hotel room, but where?

"Holiday Inn, Somerville."

"How did we get here?"

"The cops."

"My guys? We didn't get pulled over, right?" A touch of panic seeped into her voice. "Shit, did you let me drive?"

The brunette chuckled, slowly rolling on top of her nervous new friend, their naked bodies pressing against each other deliciously sternum to toe. "You're even cuter when you're not being so butch. No, baby, you didn't drive. Although, I can't imagine anyone could ever talk you out of something you set your mind to. One of your friends drove us: big, tall, black. Had the…" The dancer moved her hands over her head, mimicking the high-and-tight, nearly shaved crew cuts favored by cops. _Robert._

"Yeah, he's a friend."

"You and I were having such a good time at The Tap, we decided to take the after-party here," she husked, leaning down to capture Emma's lips in a slow kiss. Her tongue snaked out, lazily stroking every millimeter of the blonde's mouth.

"Mmmmm," Emma hummed into the kiss, breaking away reluctantly. "What's your name?"

"Madison."

Emma grinned. "What's your _real_ name?"

A pink flush tinted the young woman's cheeks as she dropped her head in embarrassment. "Nicole."

Placing her fingers under the woman's chin Emma lifted her head to meet now-shy eyes.

"And how old are you, Nicole?"

"21."

"License, please."

The dancer rolled off Emma with a chuckle. "Wow, you really are a cop." She hung one arm over the bed to reach for her purse, the other gently stroking the long planes of Emma's abs. Emma halted the touching, and with an expectant look took the license when it was handed over. She was indeed 21. _Phew_.

"Do I pass?" Nicole teased, once again rolling onto Emma, this time sitting up, straddling her hips.

"Yeah. Sorry, can't be too careful."

"Do you have to be anywhere for a while?" The brunette leaned over, teasingly rubbing her sex against Emma's while she traced the corded muscles of her neck with an insistent tongue. Sleek black hair felt like silk tickling Emma's chest and shoulders.

She looked at the clock: 7:30 a.m. "I got time," Emma smiled innocently. "Did you have something in mind?" She reached her hands up to thread them through the smooth black hair just within arm's reach, only to have her progress stopped.

"So you're really a cop?"

"_Off-duty._"

"Where?" Nicole kissed down Emma's chest as the blonde's fingers reached their destination, buried in the sleek locks. Emma moaned as she felt an eager, warm, wet mouth engulf her breast, teeth raking a nipple.

"Mmmm. Sta—" Emma began on instinct, then quickly corrected herself. "I'm the Chief of Police of Storybrooke, Maine."

XXXX

Sunglasses on and headset in ear, Emma turned the key in the ignition of her canary-yellow 2010 Ford Mustang GT and heard the V8 roar to life. It was a ridiculous purchase – not her at all – but the muscle car had called to her when she saw it on the lot. It was a lone, fun purchase in a serious, thought-out, hard-working life. Why not? Thanks to road and Logan details she had plenty of money and only the condo mortgage to worry about. Plus, Emma considered it a service to her fellow troopers, nearly all of who drove a truck: They loved giving her shit about it. Even now, years later, she could barely look at it without hearing Donagan's initial heckle: "Shit, they can see that fucker from space."

Emma hit a button on the headset and stated "Dial Robert" as she backed out of the garage. Pulling out of her driveway for the last time, she stopped in the street for one final look. The condo was nice enough, but she learned early on in her life that she didn't have the luxury or disposition for nostalgia or sentimentality. A home is a place to keep your stuff. Period.

Emma's call connected to the sound of a deep baritone laughing knowingly as she headed toward Cambridge and the Mass Pike.

"Have a good night, Sleeping Beauty?"

"My morning was even better."

"Jesus, girl. What I wouldn't give for your talents."

"What_ your girlfriend _wouldn't give, you mean." Emma unleased a dirty chuckle, pleased with her comeback.

"And not too hungover to be cocky, well done."

Emma smiled, she was truly going to miss their easy banter. She didn't let many people in her life, yet Robert made it past her natural defenses easily. "I believe I screwed all the alcohol out of my system this morning."

She could hear her friend's grin over the phone. "You know, I bet you're gonna move to East Bumfuckbrooke or wherever the hell you're headed and find a nice, gigantic lumberjill and settle down."

Emma nearly spit out her coffee. She swallowed quickly, then recovered. "Uh, you know I like the more lady-looking ladies," she noted, placing her travel mug in the holder and merging onto the Pike; she needed both hands to drive.

"Right, I forgot, you da man. Got it. You driving that banana of yours naaaaahth?" Robert asked, affecting the most grating Boston accent he could muster.

"Yes, I will be gracing New Hampshire, then Maine, with my beautiful vehicle. So fill me in on last night, or do I not want to know?"

"So dinner, then The Tap. We all drank way too much whiskey and your new friend…"

"Nicole," Emma supplied.

"Thought it was M-something."

"That was her stage name."

"Ah, anyway, _Nicole_ came in, rode you like a cowboy and put you away wet, so to speak."

"So to speak."

Emma shifted into third as she flew east past Fenway Park, nodding a solemn farewell. _Go Sox_.

"We didn't get too crazy, did we?"

Robert snorted. "Nothing that you'd put on YouTube but nothing that would wreck your career."

"That's a larger-than-I'm-comfortable-with area."

"Hey, I wasn't the one giving her a throat culture. After a couple of dances, you started makin' out and quickly retired to the ladies room. We didn't see you for a good half-hour."

Emma shook her head at the report; it meshed with bits and pieces of her memory, as well as an oddly bruised spot on her lower back. _Thank Christ I don't have to work with those guys anymore._

"You came out grinnin' like an idiot, then we bought you and your, um, friend some drinks. By last call, you guys wanted to continue your party, so I got you a room at the Hop-on-Inn, figured you didn't want her at your old place."

Emma exhaled. _Coulda been worse._ "Thanks, man. Yeah, definitely not at the condo. All I left unpacked was a sleeping bag and the mattress. The movers grabbed everything this morning bright and early. I'll get you back for the room."

"Fuck off, it's a gift."

"That's so weird, I swear I read that exact phrase on a birthday card."

"Your smart city mouth's gonna be a big hit in the sticks."

Robert laughed, but was sighing internally. He was really going to miss this woman. While state troopers didn't have partners like traditional police, Robert and Emma often worked closely together, first out of H-5 in Brighton, then on specialized operations with the gang and drug units.

They had recently moved to emergency response, just in time to get thrown into the deep end of the marathon bombing. The pair were called into the initial insanity at the scene, then lived at the barracks for the next four days, hot-bunking with every officer in their troop – plus assorted feds - while everyone tried to figure out who bombed the finish line and why. Contrary to TV, the average officer rarely fires his gun in the line of duty, which is why Robert would never forget hiding behind a cruiser full of bullets in Watertown, Emma at his side, both of them emptying clip after clip at a runaway bomb-tossing car rampaging through Watertown. When the smoke cleared, they both looked at each other, shellshocked.

"This shit happens on TV," Emma sputtered, as the sirens wailed and lights flashed signaling what looked like the beginning of World War III. Robert laughed; the situation was so absurd he couldn't help it. "If the zombies show up," he giggled, "we're really fucked."

He thought Emma was never quite the same after that week. Smiles came a little slower, laughs a little softer. Maybe that was why she took a job in the boondocks. He never shared his observations with a soul nor asked her. You didn't have to know Emma Swan well to see that she wasn't a person to spill her guts, even to one of her best friends. She suffered in silence. He wished she wouldn't, but it wasn't up to him. The woman was a classic loner and he worried she would find too much alone time in a tiny town on the coast of Maine.

"Hey, I am all-business on duty, you know that." The trooper was snapped back from his reverie with Emma's retort.

"That I do. Listen, I gotta fly. I'm on at 3 and I still smell like a three-day-old floater in July. Call me - I want to hear all about your adventures arresting drunken lobstermen and rescuing cats from pine trees."

"I will. I'm keeping this number and not getting a landline, so you know how to reach me."

"Oh, hey, Em! Hold up. I need to hear more about your fine new boss. Goddamn it. I saw that picture last night and woo!" Robert whistled low and slow. "I was gonna say I couldn't imagine you moving all the way to friggin' Maine to chase tail but, girl, I get it now. Be safe."

Robert ended the call before a confused Emma could answer. _Huh?_ The blonde's bewilderment was put on hold as she took the Pike through Boston, watching the skyline disappear in the rear-view mirror as she hit Route 1 north.

_My boss? Oh…_oh. Another flash from last night returned: She was sitting at a table with her colleagues – pre-Nicole - when Marty held up his phone triumphantly.

"Swan! I know why you're going to the middle of the mother-fucking-nowhere!"

"Hey!" Rivera snapped in Emma's defense. "It's the middle-of-motherfucking-nowhere-_brooke_."

Emma rolled her eyes and finished her latest drink. _What was this, _she wondered, eyeing the glass._ 3? 4?_

Marty held up his smartphone, which displayed a large, smug-looking headshot of her new boss. A wave of noise erupted from the dozen men in attendance, a combination of wolf whistles, off-color promises and animal-sounding hoots.

"Shit, girl. You're chasing pussy up 95!" Chang teased in approval.

"That's why she's goin' down…" Tanner bellowed, "…_east_."

Another roar, this time followed by high-fives at their ingenuity.

"Fuck off, you losers," Emma smiled. She truly would miss these idiots. "But, Marty, I am really proud of you for figuring out how to finally unlock your phone. Your 5-year-old granddaughter's a good teacher."

_Shit, do I have some alcohol-induced PTSD?_ Emma laughed to herself as she crossed the New Hampshire border. It didn't matter, she just proactively scheduled six months' worth of boozing into one night. Lord knows she wouldn't be getting such opportunities in Storybrooke. "Proactively scheduled" - that sounded like a phrase her new boss would like. Emma's grin grew wider and her eyes twinkled behind her aviators. Marty was right: Regina Mills was possibly the hottest woman she had ever seen. But she was completely, utterly off-limits.

The tiny corner of New Hampshire tucked between Massachusetts and Maine was blink-and-you-miss it, which meant a half-hour later, Emma was across the border in her new state of residence, at a table at the Maine Diner in Wells. After a greasy late-lunch/early dinner designed to soak up any excess alcohol, a bathroom break and a quick stretch of the legs, Emma was back in her car, listening to the rev of her engine as she shifted from fourth to fifth. _God I love this car._

She spied the clock on the dashboard – 4 p.m. By now the movers would be almost done unloading her stuff into the new apartment; she'd be rolling in a little after 6 p.m. That would give her plenty of time to grab the keys and crash on her mattress to sleep off the rest of this godforsaken hangover.

Emma felt her car eat up the miles of 95 North as she drove and listened to a welcomed classic rock station found by the always-faithful Scan button. Off to the right she spied yet another tourism sign proclaiming the virtues of the state – "Maine: The Way Life Should Be."

_I certainly hope so._

**TBC**

**Please consider leaving a review. In addition to making my day, your thoughts also greatly help me develop the story. If you read If The Blazer Fits, you know the impact your reviews have on my writing. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Starting in this chapter, you'll see that I'm tweaking Storybrooke here and there to make it fit the story and be as realistic as possible, as if it were an actual small town on the Maine coast. (I've lived and worked in several small towns throughout New England, including Maine.) And to answer a reviewer's question: Henry is not Emma's biological son. Regina, Emma and Henry have no ties and have never met prior to Emma interviewing for the job. Thanks as always to my co-pilot and beta, Alaska829Snow.**

Storybrooke's newest resident woke up on her very first morning in town, overwhelmed by one thing: It was so quiet.

The woman had spent her entire life living and working in or around Boston. Her internal rhythms had become synched with the sounds of honking horns, sirens, random shouts and the ambient noise of city life. Yet all of that was absent on a picture-perfect, eerily quiet, August Sunday morning in the coastal Maine town.

When first regaining consciousness, Emma opened her eyes in confusion: _Where am I?_ She slowly looked around and found herself in her new bedroom on her bare mattress surrounded by four blank cream-colored walls and a series of boxes. She found her phone, which had somehow made its way under her pillow, and checked the time: 9 a.m., an uncharacteristically late start. Emma slowly rolled to the edge of the mattress and stretched, then walked to the window to pull up the blinds.

Her bedroom overlooked the garage and the rest of the street, which emptied out near the harbor if you walked its full length. The apartment was nothing to look at from the outside, an old storehouse converted into two apartments, but it was clean, safe and cheap. For Emma, its biggest draw was the garage, which looked like it would collapse any minute, but would do just fine when it came to keeping the weather off her beloved Mustang. She could park her town-issued chief's cruiser on the street; it was always an easy, free crime deterrent. But the garage? That was for her baby.

Now living just one block off Main Street, Emma was amazed she couldn't hear a thing, save for the random ringing of far-off church bells. No cars. No pedestrians. Not even a dog. A short knock interrupted her wonderment.

"Just a minute!" she hollered into the living room.

Pulling on a pair of shorts and a sports bra, Emma tossed her tank top back over her head and opened the door to a petite, pixie-cut brunette who looked like she wandered away from a church supper.

"Hi! I'm Mary-Margaret," the woman effused to the confused blonde. "Mary-Margaret Blanchard, your downstairs neighbor."

_Mary-Margaret Blanchard? What a name. Did she escape a convent?_

"Hi, Mary-Margaret Blanchard, I'm Emma Swan."

After shaking hands, the brunette looked at her expectantly. Emma stared back, confused.

"Oh, come in," she insisted. "Sorry, I just got up. Long day yesterday."

As Mary-Margaret walked in, Emma noticed she was carrying a box.

"I brought these for you, from the bakery," the woman smiled, opening the lid to unveil a half-dozen pastries, which she set on the kitchen table.

Emma groaned happily, grabbing a bear claw. "Thank you, I'm starving. I'd offer you something but…" She tailed off, gesturing to the boxes. "Wait." Emma spied the box marked KITCHEN-GLASSES-FRAGILE. Grabbing her keys, she slit the packing tape and pulled out two glasses, rinsed them and filled them from the tap.

"The water here OK?"

"It's fine," Mary-Margaret nodded, taking the offered glass. "Thanks. I'm very happy to have a police officer living upstairs. It makes me feel safe."

Emma's brow knitted in concern. "Do you feel unsafe? Is something wrong?"

"Oh! Oh, no, absolutely not; it's just nice to know you're upstairs, that's all. I haven't had a neighbor since last summer."

"Well, I'm glad to be of service. How did you know I was the new chief?"

The brunette snickered. "Everyone knows everything in this town. And a new police chief? That's big news."

Emma assumed as much and just got her confirmation. "So, Mary-Margaret Blanchard, tell me about yourself."

"Well," she began nervously, "I teach at Storybrooke Elementary."

Emma grabbed the pair of empty water glasses to refill them. "Relax," she noted with a grin. "I'm not interrogating you."

"Heh, oh, sorry. You sound so official."

"Force of habit, I'll try to be more laid back." Emma smiled and handed over a filled glass.

"I teach third grade."

"There's two schools, right?" Emma reached for a plain donut, the bear claw a distant memory.

"Yes, the elementary is K through 5. The middle school is 6 through 8. The older kids go to the regional high school in Camden."

_That's right, the high school's not in my jurisdiction. That cuts down a shit-ton of calls._

"What do you do in the summer?"

"I tutor, sometimes I help my friend at the diner if they're jammed on busy tourist weekends. I love the beach. You wouldn't know it," she laughed, pointing out her fair skin. "I burn like crazy so I'm always under the umbrella, but it's a great place to relax. We'll have to go together sometime!"

"I'd like that." _Surprisingly, I really would_.

Mary-Margaret glanced around the box-strewn living room. Her new neighbor had a lot to unpack, but not as much as she would have suspected. "Do you want some help unpacking? I'm good at organizing and sorting."

Emma didn't like the idea of a stranger – even a kind one – going through her stuff, but she had another idea. "You know, I'll take a raincheck on that. But what I would love is to get some groceries in this joint and at least find my coffee maker. Is the grocery store open?"

"Mmm hmmm, it opens at 6 a.m. on weekends."

"Wanna come help me stock up?"

Mary-Margaret nodded enthusiastically and stood. "Let me just get my purse from my place; I have a list of things I need to get, too."

The pair locked Emma's apartment and stopped one floor below. "Want me to drive?" Mary-Margaret asked as she grabbed her keys.

Emma grinned. "Let me."

XXXX

Emma finished putting away her groceries and declined a trip to the beach with her new friend: "Another time, I promise." She couldn't remember the last time she had lain on a beach, but after a few hours of getting to know her neighbor - although she was charming - she craved a little time to herself. After Mary-Margaret's departure, Emma eyed the unopened boxes crowding the living room with disdain. Figuring she had done enough settling and friend-making for the day, the chief decided to go for a ride around her new town.

She hopped in the Mustang, windows down, the warm, summer air filling the car and blowing around her curls. A leisurely cruise through the streets was her favorite way of familiarizing herself with a new area. The former chief had taken her on a tour of the town's highlights after her interview – the business district, the harbor, the beaches, lighthouse and scenic shore roads. But today she had plenty of gas and time to check out the real town: neighborhoods and back roads. Given it was the middle of August, Storybrooke was hopping with tourists and summer residents, shorts-clad families and couples clogged the business district, spending much-loved vacation dollars in the artisan shops, toy store, fudge shop, pharmacy and more.

After an hour of meandering, Emma ended up at the harbor, watching the bustle of the fish market, the marina and the apparently insanely popular Ice Cream Barn – if the 20-person-deep line was any indication. It was clear everyone headed to the harbor to cool off and today was certainly a good day to do so. It was 82 and muggy, but the stiff wind off the water fluttered flags, drew whitecaps on the ocean and brought some refreshing air to those overheating. Emma was ready to call it a day, turn around and head home when she spied a narrow road she hadn't seen before. Feeling adventurous, she decided to find out where it led.

The Mustang rumbled low as she eased it down the tree-lined path and found it opened to a small parking lot and a playground. The lot was full, jammed with empty-bike-rack-bearing cars: _The bike path must start here. _Emma was about to reverse course and head out when she caught a glimpse of a little boy enjoying the castle-like play structure and a slim woman watching intently off to the side. She felt a touch pervy admiring the fine behind of what had to be the boy's mother, especially when she realized just whom it was she was drinking in. As an SUV in front of her backed out with a now-full bike rack, Emma decided to swing in and say hello. Her first day of work wasn't until the following morning; maybe it would be nice to reconnect in a casual setting.

Regina Mills cast a sharp glance at the gearhead who pulled his obnoxiously painted, overly loud muscle car into the just-vacated spot right behind her. _Overcompensating for a small penis, no doubt. _Three-year-old, car-and-truck-obsessed Henry, on the other hand, was thrilled.

"Momma! Momma! Look!" he squealed in excitement, clamoring down off the play set like a monkey.

"Careful, Henry, you'll fall!"

"I don't know, he looked pretty solid to me."

A cutting remark was a microsecond from launching at the rude, intrusive stranger, when it was pulled back by the shocked mayor. "Miss Swan?" she asked, gaping. "_Chief_ Swan?"

Regina could barely close her mouth as she took in her new chief of police: cut-off denim shorts atop long, toned legs; low-top Chucks; a much-too-tight white tank top; and a pair of reflective aviators. But what stunned Regina most was the shock of long, blonde luscious curls cascading loosely off her head. When Emma came to interview, her hair was pulled into a utilitarian bun. It was the only everyday hairstyle that would work with her uniform's campaign hat. Plus, it was the most professional looking; waltzing in like a hair model wouldn't help land her an executive-level job in law enforcement.

"Good afternoon, Mayor, I hope I'm not intruding."

"I, uh…no. No, not at all."

Emma grinned to herself, she didn't know the woman at all, but she knew when she set someone back on their heels - and she wasn't even trying.

"Not a professional look, I know," she admitted, gesturing at her clothes. "I apologize."

"Oh, no, not at all, Chief. You're not on duty."

As Regina stammered and Emma grinned, Henry walked up and tapped Emma on the leg.

"Hey, shaver." Emma crouched down to the boy's level, her already-short shorts inching even higher. "My name is Emma, what's yours?"

Henry smiled and reached out, a chubby hand softly touching Emma's hair.

"Your hair is yellow like your car," he noted in awe.

"That's your name?" she teased gently. "Wow, it's long."

The boy giggled at Emma's earnest foolishness. "I'm Henry."

"And how old are you, Henry Your Hair Is Yellow Like Your Car?"

"Dat's not my name!" he squealed.

Emma appeared confused, then smiled. "Ohhhhh, I thought it _was_ your last name." She nodded her head as if she were catching on. "OK, I hear you."

Regina looked down and couldn't help but smile at the conversation.

"I'm 3," he noted seriously, the age-appropriate pronunciation sounding like "fa-whee." _"And a haff."_

"Really? I would have guessed 8."

Henry let out a delighted squeak of disbelief. "Eight?" A big, broad, slightly dirt-covered smile followed. "You're silly, Emma."

"That's Chief Swan, dear."

Henry walked near the edge of the playground and pointed at the Mustang. "I like your car. It roars!"

"Wanna see it?"

Emma and Henry glanced up, shooting twin questioning looks at Regina, who nodded. The boy jammed his hand into Emma's as she led him to the vehicle, then around the exterior. They made their way to the passenger side, Emma opening the door so he could climb in. Regina stood outside the open passenger-side window as Emma patiently answered the boy's multitude of questions from the driver's seat.

"Can I hear your car roar, Chief?"

"Uh, it's pretty loud, bud, I don't think your Mom would like that." Emma winked at Regina, who blushed a tad as she realized Emma had easily read her disdain when she pulled up. "I could take you and your Mom for a ride, if you like."

"Momma!" Henry gasped in excitement. "Please, Momma? Can we? Please!"

"I'm a child car seat safety technician," Emma noted. "Certified by the NHTSA."

"Excuse me?"

"The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. I took a 40-hour course and passed a written test and a practicum. I can take his car seat out of your vehicle, put it in here properly and then put it back in yours when we get back."

Regina was unsure. She rarely exposed Henry to adults, especially strangers. She didn't let many people in her personal life and it felt too casual, even though the woman was a highly decorated officer whom she found impressive enough to entrust the entire town.

"Not today, dear," she told Henry. "Perhaps another time?"

"Definitely," Emma nodded. Henry pouted, silently tapping on the door, asking to get out. Regina opened it and out popped the boy, his face screwed up in anger and disappointment. Glaring at his mother, he stomped back off into the play castle, a fierce whine in his wake.

Emma felt awful. Quickly climbing out of the driver's side, she walked around the car and stopped next to Regina, leaning on the hood. "I'm really sorry," she noted sincerely. "I should have asked you without him. I…I haven't been around kids much."

"It's fine, he has to learn he can't have everything he wants. I'm afraid I overindulge him."

Regina caught Emma's deep green eyes. "You were wonderful with him. Do you have any nieces, nephews…children?" Law forbade Regina from asking Emma if she was married or had a family during the interview process, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer, anyway.

Emma laughed. "I think if I had kids I wouldn't have pulled a rookie move like that. No, just me."

An awkward silence settled on the pair for several seconds. "Listen, can I try to make it up to him? Maybe pull him out of his mood?"

"Pull a 3-year-old out of a bad mood?" she asked, amused. "This I have to see."

Emma climbed under one of the turrets and sat next to a sulking Henry, her long, bare legs hanging off the edge. "Hey, Henry," she started excitedly. "Do you think you could do me a favor?"

The boy turned his head up, a mixture of confusion and suspicion. Even preschoolers can sense when they're possibly being played.

"I don't know anyone in town yet and I was wondering…" She paused and blew out a dramatic breath. "Nah, you probably wouldn't do it."

"What is it?" he demanded excitedly. Emma smirked. _Gotcha_.

"Well…eh, I don't know…"

"Tell me!" The boy's eyes were bright with anticipation.

"I was wondering if you'd be my first friend here."

Large brown eyes widened and a huge smile split across Henry's face; he didn't expect such an honor at his young age.

"OK, Chief!"

Regina hung back, knowing her current role as bad guy would only hamper the blonde's efforts if they appeared to be working together. She watched, amazed, as her son cheered in excitement, then high-fived Emma with all his might. The brunette smiled to herself, Henry was no easy touch. This woman was good. Very good.

XXXX

Regina pulled the comforter over Henry's finally sleeping form and padded out quietly. _At last._

Ever since Emma took leave of the pair at the playground, the new chief was all Henry could talk about. All through the short ride home and subsequent hours until dinner ("Where did the Chief come from?"), dinner itself ("Where does she live?"), a bath ("When can we go on a ride in her car?") and bedtime stories ("Do you think she has any other cars?"). The only reason she finally got the boy to bed was a promise to take him to the swearing-in the following evening, but only if he got a good night's sleep.

Regina sat in her study, intending to finish up a meeting agenda for the next day, but found herself ruminating on Chief Emma Swan instead. She had been thoroughly impressed – and surprised – when the woman's resume crossed her desk. Regina feared that any out-of-state applicants would be big-city know-it-alls, taking the job simply to kick back, luxuriate in the town's low crime rate and collect a nice pension until retirement.

She read Emma's extensive and impressive resume and had one thought: _Why on earth would she want to come here?_ A bachelor's degree, with honors, in criminal justice from UMass-Boston. No. 2 in her class at the state police academy. Fourteen years on the state police, already a captain at 36. Extensive work on the gang, drug and now emergency-response teams. A jacket full of commendations and awards. The recruiter hired by the town to find and vet applicants said he had never seen such an accomplished candidate. This woman wasn't your run-of-the-mill, highway patrolling ticket-writer, she was clearly a person who excelled at hard, dangerous, work. What could she possibly want with this seasonal tourist town?

And that's exactly what Regina asked the captain when she walked into her office to interview with the search committee 10 weeks earlier. Emma strode in assured, long and lean, a crisp, black business suit hugging her fit frame. Just enough makeup, but not too much, no jewelry save for a small pair of gold hoops in her ears. And what Regina now knew were acres of golden curls, disciplined into a tight bun at the top of her neck.

She expertly navigated the fine line between confidence and arrogance, answering every question thoughtfully. If the woman had prepared her answers, they certainly sounded natural and unrehearsed. But, then again, Regina realized the woman was a veteran police officer, she had seen her share of courtrooms and knew how to answer questions before a crowd. Regina reflected that she had never seen such a confident, self-assured - yet down-to-earth - person in her life.

"Is it true you were involved in catching the Boston Marathon bombing suspects?" a committee member asked in admiration.

Emma's face, which up until now had been a mix of polite grin and pensive eyes, darkened a touch. "I was on the scene when the suspect was apprehended," she noted, recalling that long day in Watertown. "I was on-scene when he and his brother began that firefight in the streets the night before."

Irv, the town pharmacist, leaned forward in fascination. "Did you shoot your gun?"

Regina nearly rolled her eyes. _These people couldn't sound more like yokels if they tried._

"Yes, I discharged my firearm." The committee practically ahhhed at the police jargon. Emma enjoyed the euphemism. _They would pass out if I told them the exact details, that I emptied a whole clip._ "But I was one of many. I was just doing my job."

The search committee absorbed the information quietly, looking as if they were ready to pin a medal to Emma's chest. They had been interviewing her for an hour, time in which Regina sat back and let the others do the questioning. They had covered nearly everything she would have, save for one question.

"Captain Swan, given your experience and accomplishments, why are you interested in securing the safety of a small town in Maine?"

Emma quickly snapped out of her reverie, jolted by the up-until-now-silent Mayor's smooth, low voice. She paused for a second, captured the set of brown eyes across the table, and began. "Drugs, gangs and emergency response are a young trooper's game."

Regina scoffed. "I would hardly call you old."

"I apologize, that didn't come out as clear as I intended." Emma leaned forward and threaded her fingers together, laying them on the table. "In the next few years, the state police will promote me to a position behind a desk. I will help formulate strategy and policy, but I would be forced to be more concerned with politics than policing. I love and am proud of my work with the state police, but I would like to police a town in which I can make a difference."

"But as chief, you would be behind a desk and more involved in politics than you may like," Regina contended. "You would be responsible for your department's budget and be required to attention a multitude of meetings. Plus, you would be charged with managing a staff of 12."

Emma nodded. "I am certainly aware of that. However, this position would allow me to mentor and build smart, effective, caring police officers and help keep a beautiful town safe and thriving. Simply put, if I'm destined for a desk, I want it to be where I can see my impact daily, with my officers and my citizens."

Regina snuck a glance at the committee members; they looked like they were ready to start singing "God Bless America."

"Plus," Emma added with a grin, "your town is much prettier than Boston."

Regina returned to the present, booting up her laptop as she thought about the Chief's slightly mischievous grin, it was the same one she shared with Henry, but a little different. Today she appeared to meet the real Emma Swan, or at least more of her than she had in a formal interview setting. She was certainly more casual, definitely warm and sincere, but still guarded. Regina couldn't put her finger on it, but sensed a thread of melancholy running just under the surface.

Before the agenda for the Planning Board meeting monopolized her attention, Regina indulged herself in one last thought. _What other talents is she hiding?_

**TBC**

**Thank you for the lovely reaction to Chapter 1. Reviews are sincerely appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just a head's up: This story is a slower burn than I normally write. It's going to take a little while to get our girls together given the circumstances of the story. Hang in there, it **_**will**_** happen: And it will be worth the wait, I promise. The pacing of the first few chapters may seem slow, but there's a lot of ground work to lay. If you're finding it a bit light on SQ, it will pick up quickly.**

"Mornin', Chief."

Emma walked into the police station, momentarily confused by the greeting. _Oh, yeah, that's me._

"Hi, Martha. How's it goin'?"

Emma remembered the department's daytime – and best - dispatcher from her interview. The older woman was a little crotchety with her coworkers – and occasionally a lot with the public - but she was professional and never got rattled under pressure. Martha had a voice that reflected decades of Camels and coffee, but skills that could help her talk through any panicking caller. Over her 21 years with Storybrooke Police, she had helped deliver four babies and saved a man from choking – all over the phone.

"_I met Martha when her husband Ed damn near cut off his hand with a chainsaw," retiring Chief Edgar Burroughs told his soon-to-be successor. "There was blood everywhere and Ed was screamin' like a banshee. But Martha, she was calm, cool and collected. Didn't say a word, just kept putting pressure on the hand to slow the bleeding and keep it from fallin' off the bone. I knew right there, she'd make a great dispatcher."_

"Ah'm good, Chief," Martha replied. "Your dress uniform's in your office. Try it on and let me know if it fits. If it doesn't, I can have David run it up to Gunny and get it set for tonight."

Emma looked confused. "Gunny?"

"Gunnerson. _The tailor_," Martha huffed, as if Emma should have known who the town tailor was on Day 1. "Hold on— Storybrooke Police, you're being recorded…"

The blonde nodded and headed across the threshold of her new office, the frosted window of which bore lettering in bold, block letters:

**POLICE CHIEF EMMA SWAN**

If she ever got 30 seconds alone and away from Martha's reportedly ever-watchful eyes, she'd snap a pic and text it to Robert.

She dropped her gear bag on her desk and spied the least-fashionable, most-formal uniform she'd ever wear hanging off a hook to the right of the door. A standard police chief's dress uniform was black and boxy: blazer with shiny, brass buttons, white dress shirt, pants and a tie. Four brass stars on each shoulder loop signified her rank, and it was literally topped off with a standard police peaked cap, a far cry from the dramatic campaign hat she wore as a trooper. In fact, the whole ensemble made her state trooper uniform look downright fashionable.

Emma dressed – it fit, at least – and leaned her head out of the office door: "Uniform fits fine."

"Come out here, lemme see."

The new chief walked out and stood still as Martha walked around inspecting, tugging her jacket taut and straightening her tie.

"It'll do."

Turning on a heel, Emma spied a glint of metal under the dispatcher's desk and was about to question it when Lt. David Nolan walked in. "Hey, Nolan." Emma walked across the bullpen to shake hands with the man she met weeks earlier.

"Chief, glad you're here." Storybrooke wasn't big enough to merit a deputy chief, but Nolan fit nicely as an unofficial second-in-command. He was the highest-ranking officer aside from Emma and, according to his jacket, a good one at that.

The All-American-looking man enlisted in the Army right out of Camden Regional and spent 10 years deployed, including a heavy tour in the Middle East. Offered an honorable discharge as part of the troop draw-down, he returned to enter the police academy, grabbing the next open spot on his hometown force.

"Come see me when you have a sec."

"Got one now," he replied, following the Chief into her office, closing the door and taking a seat.

"So, I work for Martha now, right? She runs things?"

The lieutenant laughed heartily. "You got that already? You're going to do well here."

"About tonight, spread the word: Don't feel like you guys have to stay for the whole thing. We'll take our pictures for the paper and then you can head out whenever you like."

"Ah, it's OK. I like those things, plus my girlfriend wants to go." The man grinned mischievously. "You met her yesterday…Mary-Margaret."

"Get out!" Emma exclaimed, mouth open in surprise. "Why didn't she say anything? Was she scouting me out for you?"

"Heh, nah. She's a little shy and was worried it might make things weird if you knew before you met her."

"Well, you tell Mary-Margaret Blanchard I like her just fine on her own." The recent peek under Martha's desk resurfaced to the front of her brain. "Oh, hey, is it me or is there a sawed-off shotgun under the dispatcher's desk?"

"There is a sawed-off shotgun under the desk," he confirmed with a grin. "It's Martha's."

The statement of fact was so bizarre, surprising and insanely dangerous, Emma could barely form a response.

"She watches a lot of cop shows. I think she wants protection in case the Taliban or whatever storm in here and try to overthrow the station," he laughed. It was insane, but it'd been a fact of life for so long, everyone accepted it as normal. "If it helps, she has a license to carry."

"Did Burroughs know about it?"

"Know about it? I'm pretty sure he sawed it off for her."

Emma couldn't help but shake her head. "OK, I'll deal with that later."

Static from Nolan's radio interrupted the conversation, followed by a female voice. "Alpha-1, what's your 20?"

"Station."

"10-4, Alpha-1, 10-54, Fowler Road, requesting assistance."

"10-4, Alpha-2, on my way."

Emma thought she knew every 10 code, but that one escaped her.

"I don't want to sound stupid on the first day, but 10-54?"

Nolan grinned as he stood and made his way out the door.

"'Livestock on road.' Get used to it."

XXXX

Emma spent the rest of her day getting settled and equipped with her radio, firearm and the chief's car, which smelled like fast food. She left the windows open and made a quick trip to the drugstore to grab a hanging pine tree air freshener; it seemed fitting. On her way to the counter, she passed a small display of toys, including several Matchbox cars. No yellow Mustang, but it gave her an idea.

Storybrooke PD had 10 officers and each day was split into three shifts: Alpha, 7 a.m.-3 p.m.; Bravo, 3 p.m. to 11 p.m.; and Charlie, 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. Two officers were on duty for Alpha and Bravo shifts, one for Charlie ("Edgar always said two would be a waste of money," Nolan explained. "Nothin' goes on past midnight. If Charlie-1 gets in a jam, he can call one of us in."). Each officer had their own call sign according to the shift they were working; the chief was always Delta-1.

Emma was in the middle of reviewing personnel files and performance reports when Shannon Bell, Alpha-2, knocked on the door. "Got a minute, Chief?"

"I have several, c'mon in." Emma stood up, shook Bell's hand and then gestured to the empty chair.

"I just wanted to come in and say hey, see how you're settling in."

"So far, so good. I'm just going to do whatever Martha says and I think I'll be OK."

"You _are_ good."

Emma examined the woman critically. If you saw the petite blonde on the street, she looked more like a retired gymnast than a police officer. But those who underestimated her did so at their own peril. While she may have looked sweet and unassuming, in reality she was a lethal weapon. In her spare time Bell taught kickboxing three times a week at the local gym and was a second-level black belt in Krav Maga, as well as the reigning New England Women's Champion in her belt class. She was an expert at taking down drunks and belligerents if need be; Nolan termed it "getting your Bell rung."

"You ready for tonight?"

"Yup, got my glad rags, practicing my smile for the camera, you know all the tricks."

The young officer smiled, she was really going to like working for what seemed like a kindred spirit. She was _this close_ to applying for a job in Augusta when she heard Edgar was leaving.

The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by Nolan's head peeking through. "Tink, are you taking that detail this weekend at the festival or am I?"

Bell grabbed a pencil off Emma's desk and whipped it at him, missing by an inch as he ducked. "Don't call me that, you jackass!" She paled a shade when she realized what she just did and where she was. "Oh, damn, sorry, Chief, I—."

"Nah, it's alright," Emma laughed. "If someone's being a jackass, you're free to call them out on it. See you tonight."

Emma went back to file-reading, but couldn't stop a chuckle when she heard what sounded like Nolan's voice croaking out a muffled "Ow!" from the bullpen about 1 minute after the blonde left.

After lunch at her desk and a visit from IT to ensure her laptop and town-issued cell were configured, up and running, Emma entertained another guest, this one scheduled: Sidney Glass of The Storybrooke Daily Mirror.

"Chief, paperman's here!" Marta bellowed by way of introduction.

Emma stood and extended her hand. "Sidney, nice to meet you." Chuckling she added, "Sorry" nodding her head toward the dispatch desk.

"Heh, I know Martha well. Thanks for taking the time on what must be a busy day. I know we'll get pictures tonight and we have all your background, but we have a big piece planned and I'd like to get most of it written up before the ceremony."

Emma rolled out rehearsed – but sincere – statements about her vision for Storybrooke's force and its role in helping the town grow safely. She answered the obvious questions, making sure to refute what becoming a tall tale regarding her role in the Boston Marathon bombing aftermath. Apparently folks around town were already proud of their new chief and an innocent town-wide game of Telephone was turning her into some sort of superhero. The last thing she wanted was to be mistakenly portrayed as a Black Widow-like lone wolf who single-handedly defeated all the bad guys.

"So, last question: What do you like to do in your spare time?"

"To be honest, I've never really had any. I like to go to the gym and I like to run, but otherwise I haven't had the time to cultivate any hobbies. I'm sure I'll find some in Storybrooke."

XXXX

Emma walked into the town's auditorium exuding confidence in her sharp dress blues, but inside she was more nervous than she'd been in a long time. If the swearing-in were an event, it would have been sold-out; she had to park around the block to get a spot. Although it was heartwarming to see a community value its law enforcement, she had to wonder: _Don't these people have anything better to do on a Monday night?_

Despite the fact she knew very few people in the hall, Emma was nearly swallowed up upon entrance by well-wishers and concerned citizens, who offered everything from introductions to complaints about a neighbor's loud rooster. She was just about to break away with a polite excuse when rescue came in the form of a satiny voice over her shoulder.

"Good evening, Chief."

Emma internally sighed in relief, made a polite good-bye to the rooster-bitcher and turned to find the Mayor, poured into a short-sleeved, belted grey dress that displayed her curves wonderfully.

"Mayor Mills."

"Chief!" squeaked a high voice somewhere around her thigh.

"Henry." Emma smiled warmly in surprise. "You came to see me get my badge?"

The boy grinned wide. "Yup! All dressed up," he noted, tugging on his Polo shirt and checked Bermuda shorts.

"I'm afraid I couldn't keep him away. He's quite a fan."

"Well, he _is_ my first friend in town. I'm really glad you're here," she stage-whispered to the boy, crouching down to his level.

"I like your jacket, it's shiny." Henry rubbed his fingers over the bright, brass buttons.

"Uniform, dear."

"Pretty cool, huh?"

Regina cleared her throat, trying to regain Emma's attention, which was lost to her son. "Chief, do you have any family or friends here tonight?"

The blonde stood to her full height, green eyes swimming with confusion.

"Was I supposed to?"

Now it was Regina's turn to be flummoxed. _Who wouldn't invite their family and friends to such an achievement?_

The women stared at each other in mutual bewilderment, until Emma broke first, trying to supply some clarity. "I, uh…I don't have any family," she noted, surprisingly shy. "My friends are all down in Mass. working."

Regina's eyes softened, embarrassed she put the woman in a position that necessitated such a personal revelation. "I apologize, I truly didn't mean to pry. I was wondering whom you wanted to pin your badge."

"Oh, right, the ceremony." Emma had been to a few before; an officer's spouse or parents usually did the honors, hooking the badge on the breast pocket of the blazer. "Well, um, you'll be swearing me in, right? Would you mind?"

Emma's voice was so soft, so uncertain, it threw Regina for a few seconds. In the very short professional time she had known the woman, Regina had only met confident, accomplished State Police Captain Emma Swan, and new Storybrooke resident Emma Swan. Here, Regina realized, she had just met Emma Swan, the person.

"I would be honored." Regina smiled, confident enough for the both of them. Casting a glance at the clock on the wall, she gestured toward the stage: "Shall we?"

The pair made their way to the stage, while Henry plopped in the front row, talking to an adult woman animatedly. Emma looked on. _Family friend? Aunt? Girlfr—nah._

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman. Thank you for joining us. Tonight we will swear in Storybrooke's 10th police chief, Emma Swan. I will administer the oath, Chief Swan will share a few words and then we can all enjoy refreshments, courtesy of the Lions Club."

Emma was just about to place her hand on the Bible proffered by Regina when a loud "Momma!" rang out. A faint blush covered Regina's cheeks as she squatted down at the edge of the stage with a forced polite smile to see what the boy needed. She seemed to sigh, smirked, then nodded, using one arm to hoist him onstage.

Regina looked at Emma as she spoke into the mic: "If you wouldn't mind, my son would like to join us. He's quite a fan of the chief's already." Henry bounded over and stood in between Emma and Regina, beaming. The crowd practically cooed in approval.

Regina stated the lines of the oath, Emma following, wondering if they never sounded as good coming from another human being. The brunette's voice was practically hypnotic. _Focus!_ Emma ordered herself. Henry looked up at both women, excited by the intermittent explosions of bright light from the flash of Sidney's photographer.

"So help me God," Emma finished. Regina leaned in close as she slowly slid the back of the shiny, gold badge into the breast pocket of Emma's blazer. The blonde checked out for a few heartbeats, overcome by the gorgeous woman's proximity and the smell of her light perfume, but was brought back quickly when Henry led the audience in clapping.

Regina's voice was as warm and soft as the hand she offered in congratulations. "Welcome to Storybrooke, Chief." She took a seat off to the side of the podium with the City Council, Henry on her lap, while Emma stepped up to address the crowd.

"Thank you, Mayor Mills," she began, looking over her shoulder, "and Henry, he's my first friend here in town." Emma grinned as she heard several women "awwww" in the audience. "I'd like to keep this brief, because I don't know about you, but I'm hungry and that food looks amazing." The crowd laughed in approval. Regina nodded admiringly. _This woman is smooth._

"I am extremely proud and grateful to be your new chief of police. I look forward to continuing the fine tradition of securing the safety of my new home and community. While I am proud of my work with the Massachusetts State Police—"

"Boston Strong!" shouted an exuberant voice from the back of the room, followed by a raucous round of applause. A small smile curled Emma's lips at the corners, a tiny nod acknowledging their support. Mainers had no love for Massholes, other than the money they spent in their state on vacation. But that didn't mean they wouldn't support them when they needed it.

"While I am proud of my work in the Commonwealth, I look forward to helping you build a strong, bright and safe future for Storybrooke. Thank you."

The crowded headed for the refreshments while Emma, her officers, Regina and the City Council posed for pictures. Henry requested one of him and his new BFF, as well as one with Henry, his mother and the chief.

Emma dug her personal phone out of her pocket and handed it to the photographer. "Get one for me? I'd like to send it to some of my friends." The trio duplicated their smiles, then Regina took off after Henry who wanted a brownie – _now_.

Mary-Margaret quickly sidled up, Nolan in tow.

"Youuuuu," Emma admonished with a grin. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I…." she stammered, "…uh…"

"Eh, I'm kidding, I understand. My officer explained things," she smiled. "This is quite the party. Most chiefs are sworn in at the station or a City Council meeting."

"It's a big deal in town," the brunette explained. "Edgar was chief for 27 years."

"Where'd he end up?"

The lieutenant rolled his eyes. "Huge house on Sebago. _On the lake."_

Raising her eyebrows in surprise, Emma could only sputter, "Wow." Sebago Lake was one of the state's most popular vacation spots; houses on the water easily went north of $1 million. "Well done, Edgar."

Emma took a bite of a brownie, swallowed and grinned at her new friends. "I think I got low-balled on my salary."

XXXX

Emma texted the picture of her, Regina and Henry to Robert without a message. A replied followed less than 2 minutes later:

**SHIT, GRL, YOU ALREADY HAD A KID W HER?!**

_Ha ha_

**Go get it**

_How do you know she's not married?_

Emma figured she wasn't. She didn't spy a ring on the woman's finger and Regina Mills looked like a woman who would wear one. She made a mental note to find out more about her new boss through back channels.

**She's not, widow. Checked records for you. Now step to.**

Widow. Emma filed another mental note.

_Yeah, gr8 idea, sleeping with the boss. Who has a kid. In this tiny-ass town where you can't fart without someone knowing._

**Just means you gotta be stealth and I know you're trained for that**

_10-8? Shouldn't be texting_

**10-7, lunch**

_Ending this stupid convo. Be safe._

**You know I'm right. Srsly u look good w/ all those stars. WTG**

Emma smiled and undressed, laying out her litany of tech on her nightstand: personal cell, town cell, police radio. She fell asleep to the gravely tones of Bravo-2 calling a wrecker for a motorist with a flat.

XXXX

The following afternoon, Regina was shutting down her laptop and packing her work bag with files for the evening when her secretary knocked and walked in bearing an interoffice envelope.

"It's from the Chief. I thought you might want to see it before you head out."

"Thank you, Laura. Have a good night."

Curious, Regina immediately uncurled the red twine holding the flap closed and pulled out a sheet of paper – a photocopy of a 2013 certificate from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration declaring Captain Emma Swan a certified child car seat technician. Regina couldn't help but smirk at the accompanying yellow Post-it note :

**FYI – E.S.**

**TBC**

**Reviews sincerely appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: As always, thanks to my friend, Alaska829Snow, for the beta and answering my near-endless stream of odd questions. Thanks also to the lovely Guest reviewers whom I cannot thank individually.**

It was the last week of August in Storybrooke, Maine, which meant one final wave of summer tourists – and accompanying police calls - in the seaside town. They'd continue to get tourists after Labor Day, but now it would be mostly quiet couples and fall foliage senior bus tours. The raucous feel of hot summer nights and carefree vacationers would ebb as the start of another school year loomed, washing away the lucrative glut of tourists like the tide.

Joining the department well into tourist season was like hitting the ground running, but Emma liked it, it forced her to get up to speed quickly. She realized that with Storybrooke she would have the best of both worlds: bustling summer hot spot and quiet winter hamlet. There would always be challenges but they would keep her and her officers from getting bored and their skills dull. Cooper's cows could always be counted on to find the hole in the fence and roam Burnt Hill Road, just like the occasional tourist brave with drink would need an escort out of the Quarterdeck on quarter draft night.

The relatively quiet Wednesday night found the Chief riding shotgun with Bravo-1, Officer Graham Humbert. She had taken to joining each officer on patrol once a week as a way to get to know her staff and the town. It was also an easygoing, casual way to get more background on what made the town – and its characters - tick: who was feuding with whom, what neighborhoods or residences were perpetual trouble, which bars were the sources of the most calls. For the latter, the answer was quite clear.

"Bravo-2, 10-10, 155 Hutch Road."

"10-4. 10-10, 155 Hutch Road," came the gravelly reply across the radio. Emma could practically hear the smile stretch across the stubble on the stout officer's face. She had learned – and seen firsthand – that he loved nothing more than busting up a fight between drunks.

Emma chuckled. You didn't have to be in town long to know the address. "Why does Don always send Petit to The Rabbit Hole?"

Humbert reached the end of Park and took a right onto Mifflin. "Would you want to mess with him?" he asked. "Plus, Choo-Choo says I'm too pretty." Emma snorted.

Second-shift dispatcher Don Landress called himself a "model train enthusiast." "Pffft," Petit scoffed when the man's nickname was explained to the Chief. "He's a grown-ass man who plays with trains."

A mischievous glint sparkled in Humbert's eyes. "Let's poke Petit," he grinned, keying the mic. "Bravo-2: Bravo-1, Delta-1, 10-12. 10-78?" Emma barked out a laugh as soon as the mic was off; Humbert had asked the officer if he needed their help.

The underlying tone was evident in the quick, gruff reply. "10-1, Bravo-1, Delta-1." 10-1: "Unable to copy" aka, "I can't hear you." Translation: "Fuck off."

The pair was still snickering as they passed 108 Mifflin Street. "That the mayor's house?" Emma knew it was, but playing dumb would allow her to ask more questions.

"Yup."

"Awful big house for one woman and a little boy."

"Yeah, it was her family's house. She and Daniel had a cute place over on Spruce. She moved in with her parents after he was killed, before the boy was born. Her parents died in a car accident less than a year later."

"Jesus," Emma breathed. She knew the Mayor was a widow, but not that she had lost her parents soon after. She noted a lone light shining in the second-floor window of the otherwise-dark, impressive mansion. "Poor woman. What happened to her husband?"

Graham rubbed his thin beard, the large, white house disappearing from view as the patrol car turned on Pine, heading for a spin around the waterfront dining and drinking district. "Daniel Gendreau," he recalled, wistful. "He was a really good guy. He managed Mills Lumber; the Mayor's family were old-time lumber barons, owned most of the county. Made a ton of money."

"Bravo-2: 10-15, 10-19."

"Heh," Graham chuckled. "Choo-Choo's going to have company tonight. Anyway, Daniel was deep in the woods outside town marking an area they were thinking about clear-cutting. The best we figure is he came across someone – or something – he shouldn't have because he never returned. We went out looking when he didn't go home that night, found him with his head bashed in. Terrible." The man shook his head, as if that would wipe away the memory.

"Did you find the perps?"

"No, fucking Ezra."

"Who?"

"Ezra Lincoln, was on my shift. We get out there and he fucked up the scene. There were some tire tracks and boot prints in the mud and that dumb fucker…" Graham smacked the steering wheel in frustration, his wedding band catching the glint of a streetlight. "Sorry, it still pisses me off. That dumb fuck walked across them, contaminated the whole scene. We brought the state crime scene guys in to help and even they couldn't get anything."

The cruiser rolled past the waterfront; everyone was behaving. Patrons walked in and out of shops, restaurants and bars, reveling in the clear night and the salty smell of the ocean in the warm, summer air.

"Probably wouldn't have mattered," Emma remarked, "contamination of the scene would have disallowed any evidence collected."

"I know," he sighed. "It just pisses me off. He was a good guy and he had a kid on the way and poor Regina…"

"Do you know her well?"

"Used to. Daniel was in our dart league at The Rabbit Hole and used to come out for drinks. They had Ruby and me over for dinner a few times. She was always a little formal, you know, but we were friends; we all grew up here. His death crushed her. She had the baby a few months later and maybe six months after that her parents were killed."

The cruiser was stopped at a red light in front of Lobster Joe's when a Jeep in the next lane waved and yelled through the open window: "How do we get to the lighthouse?"

"Follow the scenic road signs, can't miss it," Emma yelled back. She tried to hold back a smirk as she pointed to the large sign just ahead bearing: **SCENIC ROAD – LIGHTHOUSE** and an arrow.

The deep thrum of the cruiser engines purred as the light turned green and Humbert pulled away, heading toward Main. "It was terrible," he continued. "They sent me and Pastor Pat to go tell her; I will never forget her face. She's never been the same since. Now she keeps to herself, lives for work and Henry. She's polite and nice and all, but it doesn't feel real, you know. Ruby tries to get her to socialize a couple of times a year but she always has an excuse."

Emma thought about the interactions she'd seen between the Mayor, residents and town employees. They were polite and professional, but never personal. She'd smile, but the emotion would never reach her eyes, which always seem to look sad. Then she thought about her meetings with the woman. The Mayor wasn't warm or effusive – hell, she still refused to call Emma anything other than "Chief" – but she did appear a touch more relaxed.

"She's doesn't seem that way to me," the blonde noted.

"Of course not, Henry's president of your fan club," he snickered. "If you want to get in good with the Mayor, Henry's the fastest, best and probably the only way – he's the center of her universe."

"I'm not trying to get in good with the Mayor," Emma rebutted, more defensively than she intended.

"Well, you may not be trying but if that kid adores you like I hear he does, you're 10 steps ahead of everyone else. Listen, we're a bunch of old, crotchety Yankees up here, we don't do emotion like you Flatlanders. In this neck of the woods we like results, which is why Regina has been Mayor for so long. She gets results and cuts through all the crap."

Emma tilted her head in confusion. "Why isn't she Mayor Gendreau?"

"Regina always went by Mills, she was proud of it. Henry is a Mills, too."

"Not Gendreau?"

"Ruby got her to go out once after Henry was born. She had a couple of drinks and let it slip that it would hurt too much to hear it." Graham snorted, ruefully. "Wouldn't have mattered much, the boy looks just like him."

Emma shook her head as the cruiser pulled up to Granny's. "That's just terrible."

"Coffee?"

Emma nodded and reached for the mic. "Bravo-1, Delta-1, 10-7."

"10-4, Delta-1."

The officers climbed out of the cruiser and headed toward the door.

"What happened to Ezra?"

Humbert raised an eyebrow as he caught Emma's eyes: "Disappeared."

"Like, dead?"

"Edgar fired him for fucking up the crime scene. Ezra packed up his shit and moved out of his apartment the next day. Well, they think he did. No one saw him leave and no one's seen him since." The man shook his head in disgust and walked into the diner.

_Well, there's more to that story._ Emma made a note to pull the Gendreau file next time Martha was out on a smoke break.

XXXX

"Why so serious, Nolan? You look like you your dog died."

"'S nothing, just the softball league ends this weekend."

"Do you need a day off to work through your feelings?"

Bell snorted in the background. A pencil flew at her head; she easily batted it away.

"We're not made of goddamn pencils, David!" Martha snapped. "The next time—" The dispatcher's voice switched from angry grandmother to professional robot in a millisecond as a call interrupted her scolding: "Storybrooke Police, you're being recorded…" Martha had been especially testy since Emma made her turn in her shotgun. The Chief gave her a Taser, but she grumbled it wasn't the same.

Emma caught her lieutenant discretely flip off his fellow officer before continuing. "Brian Briggs went down, twisted an ankle falling off a dock. Dumbass."

"First base," Bell supplied.

"Now we're down a man and we're playing Town Hall."

"And we love to beat Town Hall," Bell added with a hint of malice. "Paper pushers."

Emma leaned in with a conspiratorial smile and a whisper. "What about Martha?"

The officers snickered. "We have her sit on the bench and glare at the other team. Psychological weapon."

"Maybe we could pull Edgar off the lake," Bell joked.

Emma's eyes widened comically. "He played?" She tried to picture the former chief – 62 and pushing 300 lbs – running the bases.

"He _coached_," David noted, curling his fingers into air quotes.

"That means he mostly drank all the beer in our cooler before the game ended," Bell explained.

"Well," Emma offered, "I can play."

"You play softball?" David asked incredulously.

_If you only knew__**. **_

"Yeah, I subbed on my troop's team for the past few years. When I had a steadier schedule I was in an over-30 league."

"What can you play?"

"I'm a terrible pitcher, but I can handle anything else."

"What about 1B?"

"No problem."

David clapped his hands together in excitement. "You're on!"

Four days later, Emma found herself standing near first base, taking grounders from Bell, who was having no success sneaking anything by her. She tried to trip Emma up, smacking a bullet halfway to second base, but Emma smoothly ranged to her right, the ball landing in the web of her glove like it was being pulled by a magnet.

"We're kicking Briggs off the team next year!" Bell announced to no one in particular.

Emma snagged ball after ball until she heard a high-pitch voice yell: "CHIEEEEF!" She followed the noise toward the bench and found Henry, closely trailed by the mayor, resplendent in running shorts, sneakers and a jersey proclaiming TOWN HALL across her generous chest.

Emma gaped.

"Heads-up!"

The blonde turned just in time to avoid being nailed by a line drive, courtesy of Bell.

"Sorry, Chief!"

Emma waved it off with her glove and walked over to the bench. "Hey, buddy, come to cheer me on?"

"He came to cheer _me_ on," Regina noted archly, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, we'll see about that."

"Really now?"

Uninterested in the women's banter, Henry inquired after the one thing on his mind, tugging on Emma's cargo shorts. "Do you have any popsicles?"

"Bell!" Emma hollered at her officer. The blonde ran over, nodding at Regina and Henry. "Do we have any popsicles?"

"We do, Chief. But only for good boys."

"Well, that takes out Nolan," Emma laughed.

"And pretty much every guy on our team." Bell smiled radiantly at the boy. "That would leave them all for you, Mr. Mills."

Henry beamed and was about to sprint to SPD's bench when Regina grabbed him by the back of his T-shirt. "And where do you think you're going, you traitor?" she smiled.

He returned her gaze quizzically. "What's a tray-ta?"

"Someone who has good taste and can be bought for a Popsicle," Emma chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Maybe your Mom will let you come over later?"

"We'll see."

"Depends on how bad we're beating you?"

"You talk a good game, Chief."

Emma had five separate, borderline-inappropriate comebacks on her lips, but wisely held them all back. Instead, she winked and headed for her bench, grabbing an empty spot next to Nolan.

"So Town Hall has Henry for a mascot and we have…Martha?" she whispered, eyeing their dispatcher, who was sitting on the edge of the bench, smoking and trying to give the Mayor the Evil Eye as she walked onto the field.

"Doesn't seem fair, does it?" he laughed in response.

"The Mayor any good?"

The lieutenant nodded solemnly. "Pitcher."

_Of course she's a pitcher. Of course._

"I' m surprised she plays. Doesn't seem like her."

"I think she did it in the beginning to show she's a good sport, publicity stunt for the newspaper, that sort of thing. But she became really good. Now I think she just likes striking everyone one out."

Emma and Nolan sat silently, watching Regina warm up. Driving through her hips, she pulled her pitching arm out of her glove, swung it back until it was nearly parallel to the ground and then rocked it toward home base, the ball spinning out of her fingers and into a high arc, somehow moving four different ways a once before landing in the catcher's glove.

"Wow, that's filthy."

"Knuckle curve. Struck me out twice last year with it. _Twice_. Leroy told me I had to walk home."

"He should talk," Bell added, "small strike zone."

"Bite me, Tink," Petit barked, taking a pull off his beer.

Emma was impressed. The point of slow-pitch softball wasn't speed or power, but tricky ball movement. The batter would be sure he was about to crush the ball right in front of him, only to watch it suddenly drop, curve or dance anywhere other than where he expected.

"As far as I can tell, she's got a cutter, a curveball and that knuckle curve," Nolan explained. "She's easily the best pitcher in the league."

"And she knows it."

The man laughed. "And she knows _we_ know it, too."

Two innings later, Emma met Regina Mills The Pitcher, as she stood in the batter's box and tried to keep her eye on the ball. It wasn't easy, as she had become a big fan of Regina Mills, casual dresser. The woman's running shorts displayed a lovely amount of firm thigh atop tan legs. The shapeless baseball jersey did nothing to hide her curves and Emma thought she could stare at TOWN HALL all day long. She was doing just that when the softball flew right by her torso and landed with a thud in the catcher's mitt.

"Strike 1," yelled the ump.

_Shit, pay attention._

Emma took her eyes off the smirk on Regina's face and, focus renewed, watched the ball, which was heading right for the sweet spot of her swing. Emma tightened her grip on the bat and unleashed a mighty cut, only to hear the ball hit the catcher's mitt again. The fucking ball disappeared at the last minute.

"Strike 2."

Emma pointed her bat at Regina. "You're disgusting," she laughed in mock anger. She looked over at Nolan, who nodded: "Knuckle curve."

Regina smiled serenely. "You're welcome, dear."

_She is not striking me out._

Emma watched the ball leave Regina's hand one more time and swung through, sending it down the third-base line. She sprinted for first base, beating the throw by half a step.

Regina looked over, brows raised in surprise. Emma saluted with a proud smirk.

Halfway through the game, Henry decided he was done waiting and snuck over to the police department's bench. He was sitting proudly next to Emma, happily lapping a Popsicle, when Regina caught his eye and opened her mouth in faux shock, following with a mock scowl.

The boy giggled and his mother wound up, sending a dancing curveball toward the batter. Humbert got a piece of the ball, which was just enough to send it rocketing out of bounds toward the police bench, heading straight for Henry.

"HEADS!" Bell hollered.

Emma instinctively turned to shield the boy with her body, the ball landing smack on her left flank, square on the ribs. She hissed in pain upon contact, while Henry laughed, thinking they were playing a game. "No tickle!"

"Time!" Nolan yelled, as he and everyone on the bench descended on Emma and the boy. Regina sprinted in from of the mound. "Henry!"

"Hi, Momma!" Regina ran her hands over her son and finding him no worse for wear, approached Emma, who had tied her jersey just under her sports bra to inspect the damage; a large, angry welt was already rising on the side of her taut torso. Regina wasn't sure what was most impressive, the swelling bruise or the rock-hard six-pack to its right.

"Wow," Bell whistled.

Emma craned her neck, she couldn't get a good look at the area. "That bad?"

"No, I mean your abs. _Wow_. What do you do?"

"Ah!" Emma gasped in the middle of an eye roll as Petit pressed a wet, ice-cold beer onto the welt.

"Are you in pain?" Regina looked on, worried.

"Gah! That beer is cold!"

Martha walked over and probed the area surprisingly gently with her fingers. "Mighta caught a rib. Get an X-ray."

Looking Emma straight in the eye, Nolan ordered, "Take a deep breath." Emma did just that and nodded. "Doesn't hurt to breathe, doesn't feel broken."

"You might have cracked it, let's get you to the ER."

Mary-Margaret appeared out of nowhere with a bottle of ibuprofen. Emma grabbed three and chased them down with a swig of beer. "I'll be fine. I can play."

Emma caught Regina's eyes and smirked. "We can't lose to these guys."

The brunette's lips turned up at a corner at the cocky reply. "Seriously, are you alright?"

"I think so, it just stings right now. If I feel anything bad, I'll sit out."

"Thank you, Chief." Regina shook her head in dismay. "That could have been—"

"But it wasn't." Both women were surprised to find Emma's hand had landed on Regina's arm in comfort. "Don't, you know, worry about things that might have happened. Protect and serve, right?"

Regina smiled warmly. "Thank you."

Emma was about to suggest the game restart when Henry cleared his throat, looked up at the two women and proudly held up an empty stick. "Got any more popsicles?"

XXXX

Later that night, Emma sat on her couch, an icepack tucked into her side. After the game, she decided to skip the trip to The Rabbit Hole and follow Martha's advice for an X-ray. Her side had stiffened considerably and she couldn't determine what was bruise-pain and what might be a cracked rib.

"Would you like me to take you?" Regina offered when she heard the news.

"Aw, thanks. I'll drag Bell, she's got nothing to do." Emma smiled as the woman in question laughed in the background: "Hey!"

"Call me tonight, let me know what happens?" Regina's voice was surprisingly soft and tentative with the request. "Do you have your phone?"

Emma silently produced it, watching Regina type in her contact information. "That's my personal cell. Please call me when you can." Emma nodded, dumbfounded, their fingers brushing as Regina handed back the phone.

The ER had been busy, and since an x-ray for a possible cracked rib ranked low on the list, Emma hadn't been seen for hours. By the time she got home, it was later than she felt comfortable calling.

**Wasn't sure when Henry goes to bed, didn't want to call. No fracture. I'm OK.**

A reply followed so quickly, Emma wondered if Regina had been staring at the phone.

_Good. How is the pain?_

**I'll live.**

_Your team played well today. Not enough to win…_

**Wow, taunting an injured player via text? That is literally insult upon injury. We came pretty close.**

_That you did. That was the closest game we've had all season._

**We'll get you next summer.**

_The Popsicle fan and I will have to find a way to make it up to you._

**I would like that.**

_I'll be in touch, good night._

**Good night.**

Emma smiled to herself. _I really would like that._ And therein lie the problem. _I might like it too much._

**TBC**

**Reviews sincerely appreciated. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: After the last chapter I heard from a few readers who were concerned that character(s) they like may meet their demise later on down the road. I want to assure you, I never kill good guys in my stories. Thanks to Alaska829Snow for her continued awesomeness.**

Emma sat at her desk desperately wishing she were getting pepper sprayed instead of staring at the spreadsheet on her laptop. The department's draft budget for the next fiscal year was due to the Finance Committee in a month, and the new Chief had no idea how to put it together. Just when she thought she was getting into the swing of things and had her new position well in hand, _math_ had to come into play.

Now six weeks in as the head of Storybrooke law enforcement, Emma was loving everything about the job, recent mathematical developments aside. Her officers were honest and hardworking. The town's tourist season had made an easy transition to leaf-peepers and back-to-school, and Emma found that she didn't mind politics as much as she thought she would, especially since she got to meet weekly with the Mayor.

To the public, Regina Mills was all business. But through their weekly meetings, Emma discovered that the private woman was wry, whip smart and truly cared about her town and its residents. She wasn't anything like the career hacks she encountered in Massachusetts; Storybrooke was not a stepping stone to something greater. For Regina, it was her home and her son's future – and she worked hard – too hard, in Emma's opinion – to make it the best it could be.

"_So, what do you think?" Emma leaned forward, anxious for her colleague's opinion._

_Regina appraised the woman in front of her; Emma's eyes were bright and she was practically vibrating over the promise of an elementary and middle school community policing initiative she had just outlined and was due to present to the School Committee that night._

_While Regina tried to remain her formal mayoral self, she was enjoying her weekly time with the Chief and found her professional façade cracking. Her meetings with Burroughs were a black hole on her calendar; the man was lazy, unorganized and uninspired, content to keep his officers writing tickets and aiding tourists. Emma, she discovered, had plans and ideas that would not only keep the town safe but also benefit its residents in many other ways. Regina realized she had found the closest thing to a professional kindred spirit in Emma Swan._

_The brunette's voice was smooth - and warmer than she intended - as she spoke: "I think this town is very lucky to have you."_

Eyes were darting back and forth from spreadsheet to last year's inch-thick proposal hoping inspiration would strike when Martha's gravelly tenor blared from the dispatch desk.

"Chief, Mayor's here!"

Regina approached, eyes rolling in annoyance. Emma couldn't help but grin: "Do you think I could put in for an intercom in next year's budget?"

"I'll pay for it myself," she quipped as she walked through the door. And what a welcome sight it was: black trousers and a tight black vest hugging a white collared shirt straining at the third button. _Holy shit._ Emma had to hold back the instinct to whistle low and slow.

Needless to say, she was thrilled for this very beautiful, very welcome distraction. "What can I do for you today?"

"I have a problem." Regina's voice was serious and cool, prompting The Chief to lean forward, brow immediately furrowed in concern. "Three-year-olds can get obsessed with things," she lectured formally with a hint of a smile.

"Three-and-a-_haff_."

"Regardless, until recently I have had a 3-year-old obsessed with cars, trucks and trains."

"Very common, I'm told."

"And now I have a 3-year-old obsessed with cars, trucks, trains and the police. Especially a certain law enforcement official who has yellow hair like her car."

Emma grinned. "Ah, I see. That young man sounds very intelligent."

"He is." An arched eyebrow punctuated the declaration. "You have replaced Thomas the Tank Engine, his idol. I assumed his infatuation would wane, but I am getting no reprieve."

Faux hurt punctuated Emma's face. "I feel like I should somehow be offended at that, but go on."

Regina paused; Emma could practically hear her fidget. "I hesitate to ask, but would you join Henry and me for dinner? Henry would love it and I never made amends for your softball injury."

"It was hardly an injury and it wasn't your fault in the first place. Humbert was the batter."

"But if I wasn't such a skilled pitcher, he would have sent it into the outfield, not fouled it off."

"I do like how this apology-dinner invitation has suddenly turned into a self-congratulatory commentary on your ridiculous pitching."

Emma sat back in her chair and appraised her visitor. The normally airtight professional was trying to hide a quiver of insecurity Emma had never witnessed before; big, brown eyes softened at the corners. "Why do you hesitate?"

"I strive to maintain a professional line with the town's employees."

"Of course, well, I would love to join you both for dinner if you're not too uncomfortable. Just one question, Madam Mayor: Does this mean I'm dating your son?"

Regina couldn't suppress the laugh that escaped her throat. She stood and headed for the door. "Tomorrow night, 6 p.m.?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Emma stood and escorted Regina to the bullpen; the brunette saw herself the rest of the way out.

"Jesus, I can't remember the last time the Mayor was in here," Martha remarked pointedly.

Emma's reply was short as she returned to her office: "Budget."

XXXX

Emma had just returned from the range with Bravo shift and was prepping for a meeting with the fire chief when she felt her personal phone vibrate.

**Sorry to bother you Chief but I forgot to ask: Do you have any allergies or dietary concerns I need to know about?**

_I'm sorry, you've reached Emma. Emma does not have any food requirements, other than it surpass her microwave cooking skills._

**Then Emma is in for a treat.**

_May I bring something?_

**Just yourself. Don't be late, your boyfriend is very excited to see you.**

At 5:59 p.m., Emma blew out a harsh breath and rang the bell at 108 Mifflin Street. Her meeting ran long, giving her just enough time to swing by the liquor store and grab two bottles of wine. It was either buy wine or change; she figured Regina wouldn't mind her everyday work attire: short-sleeved, navy blue SPD polo and Dockers. Making at least one concession to off-duty life, Emma pulled out her work bun, shook out her hair and finger-brushed her curls. It wasn't great, but it would do.

She was pondering her attire's possible reception when she heard a distant, "Come in." Pushing open the heavy door she found Regina holding a giggling, muddy, soaking-wet Henry at the base of the stairs.

"CHIEEEEF!"

"Do you need my cuffs?"

Regina rolled her eyes. "_Someone_ decided to sneak out back, turn on the sprinkler and roll around in the dirt while I was making dinner."

The boy smiled, completely unrepentant. "I'm so sorry, but I need to get him into a quick bath before dinner." Regina looked equal parts stressed and embarrassed. "I hate to make you serve yourself, but there's beer in an ice tub in the kitchen." She pointed to the hallway to the right of the stairs. "We'll be right back down."

The response was immediate and deadpan: "I'm terribly offended." Catching Henry's gaze she explained. "I have a surprise for you, but only if you listen to your Mom and do exactly what she says."

The boy stopped squirming immediately. "OK." Regina was shocked at his instant submission.

Emma chuckled and headed for her beer. Ten minutes later, she was sitting in the parlor when she heard what sounded like a herd of buffalo tumbling down the stairs. She jumped up to investigate the commotion, only to find a stark-naked, laughing Henry running toward her. "Chieeeeeef!"

Reaching out and grabbing him under the arms, Emma held out the child like he was radioactive. A red-faced Regina followed close behind bearing a towel. "I don't know what's got into him," she admitted. Both women bit their lip, trying not to laugh and encourage the boy further.

"Henry, I thought you were supposed to be listening to your Mom." She passed the boy over, modesty restored thanks to the towel.

He shook his head, guilt heavy in his eyes. "I wanted to see you."

"I'm not going anywhere, man. Get your clothes on, listen to Mom and we can have some fun."

Soon a squeaky-clean Henry Mills descended the stairs in a T-shirt and tiny track pants. Regina had changed into yoga pants and a scoop-neck T-shirt, her clothes another apparent victim of the boy's backyard escapade.

"I'm sorry I didn't change, Pete was very chatty today," Emma noted. Regina nodded her head knowingly. "It was either run home or wine and I opted for the latter."

"Two bottles?" Regina raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what you've heard about me, but…"

"Very funny. I wasn't sure what was for dinner, so I covered both bases."

"Well, I approve, thank you."

Emma smiled, her attention shifting when she felt a tug on her pants and a soft, "Wow." She looked down to see Henry, reaching up to touch the gun she holstered on her waist.

"Oh, no, shoot, uh..." Regina looked like she was going to faint as she gently pried his fingers off the grip. "I was at the gun range today with some of the officers, totally forgot I had it on. You don't happen to have a gun safe here, do you?"

The brunette's head cocked in confusion as if Emma had asked if she had an elephant she could borrow. "No."

"I can't leave it in the car," Emma thought out loud. "Oh, wait."

She unholstered her Glock and pushed a button, releasing the clip of bullets. Emma stuffed the clip into her pocket and returned the gun to its holster.

"Next time I'll make sure I bring a portable safe."

Regina raised an eyebrow. "Next time?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, um…I mean…"

"Come here, Chief!"

Apparently no longer fascinated by a bullet-less weapon, Henry had run over to a large, low-set table impressively stocked with wooden tracks. "See my trains!"

"I…" Emma looked at her host for direction.

"Go," Regina chuckled. "I'll call you both when dinner's ready."

Food plated and ready to eat, Regina walked into the parlor and was about the call the pair when she saw the Chief sitting on the floor with her back to the entryway, Henry standing at attention in front of her.

"So, you know I don't have a deputy and I could really use one. Do you think you could help me?"

The boy nodded his head enthusiastically, his eyes widening as Emma pulled out a silver toy Deputy badge from her pocket and pinned it to his shirt. "Like you and Momma!"

"Right," Emma nodded. Regina looked on, entranced. "And every officer needs a cruiser, so here's yours." She dug in her pocket once more and pulled out a canary-yellow Mustang Matchbox car.

"Wow!" He grabbed it and held it up triumphantly, looking over Emma's shoulder. "Momma! Look! Look!" he squealed.

Emma whipped her head around, unaware Regina had been watching the "ceremony."

"Oh, hey," she greeted, sheepishly.

"Who wants dinner?"

Henry tore out of the room, car leading the way via his outstretched arm. Emma pushed herself up onto her feet. "Ooof," she smiled. "Gettin' old."

"That was really sweet, thank you."

They walked to the dining room, Emma trying to avoid the pull of a pair of soulful brown eyes. Emma tried to joke away the sudden electricity in the room as she took her seat. "I do need a deputy. I bet he'd work for Popsicles; Nolan is such a diva."

XXXX

After dinner, the women were enjoying coffee and more-comfortable-than-expected small talk in the parlor when Henry disappeared for a few minutes only to reappear with a book, wordlessly climb into Emma's lap and lie back in her arms. The message was clear.

"He's not subtle, huh?" she laughed.

"If you don't want to…" Regina began apologetically.

"No, no. This is fine."

"I have to admit, I'm shocked. He's never been a cuddler with anyone but me."

"Like I said yesterday, he's obviously very intelligent." Emma cleared her voice as she gave the suddenly giggling boy a little squeeze. "OK…All About Police Cars," she announced. "One day, Officer Dan…"

Regina watched her son recline in the Chief's strong arms, as easy as if he were lounging in his own bed. His right foot swung lazily as he listened, staring off into space and playing with the ends of Emma's long hair twirling them around his fingers, only to let them go and watch them spring back into place.

She barely let any other adult speak to her son, let alone _hold_ him. But there was something about Emma that put the brunette – and obviously Henry – at ease. Her lips pulled up at the corners as she watched his sleepy lids start to flutter, the index and middle fingers of his right hand finding their way to his mouth. The boy shifted, snuggling in even further, as if he were trying to burrow himself into the fit torso of the blonde and out the other side. Curled into her own chair, Regina felt peacefully relaxed as she watched the scene, lulled into near-hypnosis by Emma's narration. The tranquility was followed quickly by a thought so unexpected it nearly jolted her: She wished she could join them.

A fuzzy warmth settled over Regina's body as her imagination took flight: Henry snuggled in Emma's lap, Regina tucked into her side, her head on Emma's shoulder, her face tickled by a random blonde curl. A strong arm enveloping her and pulling her close as she smells the clean, fresh scent of the woman's skin and spies a neck she suddenly has to urge to taste and mark with her lips and tongue…

"Psst! Psst!"

A sharp hiss jolted Regina out of her daydream, as she found Emma gesturing at the sleeping boy on her lap. The brunette quickly scrambled out of her chair, as if the action would erase her daydream and restore her regular calm.

"You have a magic touch," she whispered shakily, hoping Emma didn't notice her red-hot cheeks.

Regina leaned well into Emma's personal space as the transfer was made; it was close enough for them to smell each other's shampoo and feel the exhale of twin breaths on their faces. Regina lifted Henry onto her shoulder with practiced ease and headed for the stairs. "I'll be right back."

Emma looked at her lap, surprised to realize she missed the warm weight of Henry's body and the sound of his rhythmic breathing. She passed the time wondering what had the boy's mother so flustered.

"You have a way with my son unlike anyone I've ever met," Regina noted as she returned, taking a chair across from her guest.

"I think he has a way with me. I've never been around kids much. My friends' kids, stuff like that. I used to do a lot of school programs, career day, jazz like that. With work, if I was around and they had a situation with a scared kid or something, they sent me in."

"Because you're a woman?"

"I think so, but that was a dumb assumption on their part. Nearly everyone else in the troop was married and had kids, I was OK, but they were much better with children. The work with the kids killed me, I carried it for days."

Regina leaned forward, her colleague had never mentioned specifics of her last job. "I would rate you much higher than 'OK.' What situations did you run into?"

She watched Emma's eyes squint at the memory. "Car accidents, drunk driving, abuse, terrible stuff. Anytime I had to separate a child from his parents, it was horrible."

"I can't imagine," Regina breathed.

"Luckily, that's something Henry will never know. You're raising a wonderful child. I give single parents all the credit – it's the hardest job in the world. I don't know how you do it."

"I've never known any different, I suppose that's a silver lining."

Emma winced as she inadvertently waded into a touchy subject. "I'm sorry."

Regina nodded, "Thank you." Eager to change the subject, she asked, "What were you parents like?"

Emma snickered mentally. _Out of the frying pan and into the fire. _"Nonexistent. According to my file, my father abandoned my mother when she was pregnant. She raised me for two years and then died. I went into the system."

Regina was horrified. "What happened to your mother?

"She was an alcoholic, drove into a telephone pole one night after last call. It was a different time, much less support and resources to battle addiction, you know? But, like you said, I never knew any different. You don't miss what you never had."

Regina was dying to know what happened to Emma in the system, how she had risen from humble, rootless beginnings to achieve such success. But those were questions for another day.The grandfather clock chimed, breaking the short silence.

"9 o'clock? I gotta go, you have work in the morning," Emma winked. She rose and began to head out of the parlor when her host's smooth voice stopped her in her tracks.

"I meant to ask you a question," Regina began tentatively. "We're heading into budget season. I know you've never done one before. Would you like some help?"

Emma's face split into a huge smile. "Yes! _Thank God_. I was going to ask. I have a general idea, but I could use your help determining the contract increases, benefit raises, the union stuff. And I have no idea how to estimate the amortization of the new cruiser."

"I can help with all of it. Perhaps we could meet after hours once a week until your draft is complete? I don't want to take up your spare time, but I'm already out 1 to 2 nights a week for meetings, I'd hate to miss more bedtimes with Henry. If we met over here I wouldn't have to get a sitter and you could see your boyfriend."

"I'd invite you over to my place but I think Henry would find it boring. No trains."

"We could just do it in your car, he'd love _that_."

Emma laughed, trying to forget she heard Regina utter the phrase: _We could just do it in your car_. "Deal - but on one condition. No dinner."

The blonde wished she could take back her words when she saw the hurt in Regina's eyes. "Why?"

"Because you've already got so much going on. I can't ask you to cook for me once a week."

"I reluctantly agree, but I will find a loophole."

Emma grinned and paused in the doorway. "Thank you. I really enjoyed myself."

"I did as well. Good night."

Emma jogged down the brick walkway to the car. The temperatures were already dropping into cool, crisp fall and she didn't have a coat; she could feel the goose pimples rise on her arms. She started the cruiser and cranked the heater, offering a wave at Regina, who was still in the doorway watching her leave.

Emma drove home, trying to remember the last person who asked about her parents and when. Regina closed her front door, flipped the lock and set the alarm, wondering when she last cared enough to watch someone leave from her doorway. Both pondered what that meant, but were too afraid to follow the thought very far.

XXXX

"OK, how does this look?"

Seated side by side at the dining room table, Regina leaned over to peer at the spreadsheet open on Emma's laptop.

She tapped a perfectly manicured nail at the middle of the screen. "I think that cell is wrong, wait…" Grabbing a stack of papers bound with a heavy alligator clip, she flipped until she found the information she needed. "Here you go. Add $28,900 to F4."

Emma did just that and hit Enter, watching the bottom-line figure on the spreadsheet turn from red to green. "It's green!" the Chief cheered quietly, aware Henry was sleeping just one floor away. She turned to Regina with a wide smile and held her hand in the air. Regina looked at her quizzically.

"Don't leave me hangin'," Emma whined with a grin. The brunette still looked puzzled.

"Seriously?" Emma grabbed Regina's right wrist, lifted her hand in the air and smacked it against her right. The hand was as soft and warm as her palm; long, elegant fingers collided with Emma's. "You've never given a high-five before? You play softball! How is that possible? Oh, my God…"

"I thank you not to mock me," Regina grinned. "Of course, I have. I was confused as to your intention." She held up Emma's empty wine glass. "Another?"

"I have to drive home. I'll take a water, though."

"Done." Regina sauntered out of the room while Emma admired the view and thought about how much she had learned about the Mills family over the past three weeks.

In addition to the fact Regina was severely lacking in celebratory hand gestures, Emma had discovered Henry was a light sleeper and sucked his fingers when he was tired; his mother could be swayed by high-quality dark chocolate ("It's an antioxidant!" she justified); she kept a box of wine in her refrigerator ("If you ever tell anyone, I will fire you."); and she would break a promise if it meant she got to feed someone.

Despite the fact Regina pledged she would not cook Emma dinner for their weekly budget-prep tutorials, every week a meal just happened to be waiting when the blonde arrived.

"I didn't make dinner for _you_," Regina explained smugly. "You specifically requested I do not. However, we just happen to be running late, would you like to join us?"

Emma didn't mention the fact that the table was already set for three people, nor that the Mills family dinner seemed to mysteriously run late every time Emma was visiting. The next week, she began retaliating by showing up to each meeting bearing an expensive chocolate bar and a box of Franzia: "The sitter is gong to think I'm an alcoholic, you realize."

Given Emma had never taken accounting or any business courses in college, she was eternally grateful Regina had made her inaugural budget proposal as easy as possible. She knew how to take down a person tripping on ecstasy, but Excel? Forget it.

"Chief?" Emma snapped to and found Regina offering a glass of water and a confused look. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about how grateful I am for your help." Sleek, black hair dipped low as Emma swore she saw a touch of pink grace Regina's cheeks. "I mean it. You've been so gracious with your time and your home; I truly appreciate it."

Emboldened, she caught brown eyes and held them: "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What are we?"

Regina didn't know what to say, stunned silent by the unexpected question.

"Would you say we're friends?"

"Of…of course. Yes."

"Do you think you could call me Emma?" The blonde smiled warmly. "You've cooked for me, I've brought you secret, cheap wine, your son's fallen asleep on me. I know you want to maintain a professional relationship with town employees, but 'Madam Mayor' seems way too formal outside Town Hall and I just don't think you'd appreciate 'Hey, you.' "

Regina now blushed outright. "Outside of work? Yes," she smiled. "Yes, I will."

"May I call you Regina?"

"Please do."

Emma's eyes sparkled at the response. "Thank you, _Regina_. I like that." She shifted in her seat and pointed to her screen. "So, is this ready to go to the Finance Committee? I can e-mail it over?"

"Yes, you can. Congratulations, Che—" Regina caught herself and started again. "Congratulations, _Emma_."

The blonde raised her glass and gently clinked it against Regina's, "To a good teacher…you do know how to do a toast, right?"

Regina playfully smacked her colleague on the arm.

"Ow!"

XXXX

"Mornin', Ruby."

"Hey, Chief."

Emma took a seat at the counter and gratefully sipped the coffee that seemed to appear instantaneously. She had no idea how the woman poured that fast.

"How many times do I have to remind you to call me Emma?" She had successfully lobbied Regina to drop the honorific outside work, maybe she could get Ruby on board, too. "You don't work for me. You can call me Emma."

"I know, force of habit. I sure as hell wasn't gonna call Burroughs 'Edgar',"

she snorted.

Sneaking a quick peek to ensure Granny wasn't watching, she leaned on the counter. "Graham and I are having our annual end-of-summer party this weekend, we want you there."

Emma's brown narrowed in confusion. "It's October."

"_Mid-_October. The leaves haven't fallen – that's still summer here. C'mon, it's fun. We get a keg, grill, eat way too much. Everyone from the department comes, other friends in town, too, everyone brings their families, the kids run around until they pass out. Whaddaya say? Graham's gonna ask you at shift change this afternoon, I figured I'd beat him to it."

Ruby could practically see the gears turning in the Chief's head. "You need some R&R," she insisted. "According to my spies, no one's seen you around town for fun, which means you work all the time. How are you going to find Mr. Right?" Ruby smiled wide, the fire-engine-red lipstick making her white teeth even more brilliant.

_Here's your chance,_ Emma thought. Since she moved to Storybrooke, no one had inquired whether she had a boyfriend or asked her out. Historically, she found that subject was always the easiest way to casually out herself without a big production. The Chief knew Ruby stored and shared more information than the Internet; this was the perfect opportunity. _Here goes nothing…_

"It would be Ms. Right, actually," she noted with a wink.

"Ha! _I knew it_. Yes!" Ruby pumped her fist in triumph.

"Excuse me?"

"I _knew_ you were gay."

Emma laughed. "You set me up?"

"No one told me, I just figured."

"And how'd you do that?

"Honey, you ping louder than a fire alarm. But I have great gaydar. My brother's gay, lives down in Portland with his husband."

"Ah, is that why…" Emma gestured to the rainbow flag that flew next to Old Glory above the front door.

"You bet. Love is love. Granny only cares if your money is green. So, you comin' or not? You need to get out and meet people as Emma, you know. Not as _the Chief_. Make some friends, have some fun."

"Hey, I have friends. I'm friends with my officers."

"They work for you, doesn't count."

"I'm friends with Henry Mills."

"He's 3."

"And Regina."

"You're friends with Regina? Get out." This was news. "Wait, she lets you _call_ her Regina?" Regina Mills, as far as Ruby could tell, no longer had friends. She was professional and polite, but had no time for anything – or anyone – outside her work and her son.

"It's true. She's funny and smart. I don't know why she has this rep." Emma couldn't quite describe the reaction others had toward the Mayor.

"Yeah, I know, it's hard to find the right word. She's not cold, but it's like she's got this shell. I grew up with her and she was a lot of fun – when she wasn't around her parents. Her Dad was alright, kinda quiet. But her mother, Jesus, what a snooty bitch. After Daniel was killed, it was like she just withdrew into this, like, cocoon of motherhood and work."

"I'd imagine that would be easy to do – those things you can control."

"I don't know how she does it, honestly. Hunter is a full-time job and I have Graham. It must be so goddamn lonely and exhausting for her. Single mothers are saints."

"Is she coming to the party?"

"I try to get her to come out, have a playdate with me and Hunter, go out for drinks – anything - and she turns me down, nicely, every time. I stopped asking. But I'll see her today at preschool pickup – Henry and Hunter are in the same class. I'll give it a go. But _you're_ coming right?"

Emma dropped her chin to her chest in mock defeat. "All right, all right. You win. What can I bring?"

"Yourself. We've got it all covered."

Emma was about to concede when she had a thought and grinned, a cheeky glint in her eye. "Say, how big is your backyard?"

XXXX

_**Police, students bond over lunch**_

_Inside the new community policing project_

_By Sidney Glass_

_If your child comes home and tells you the police were at school today, don't be alarmed – it's part of a new community policing initiative._

_Approved at the last School Committee meeting, the pilot program has an officer join students for lunch once a week at the Storybrooke Elementary and Middle School cafeterias._

"_We're having a lot of fun meeting the students and getting to know them in a casual setting," said Lt. David Nolan. "Plus, we're always invited on pizza day!"_

"_It's important the children understand we're part of their community and not 'scary'," Officer Shannon Bell added. "We hope the time we spend with them will show kids they can trust us, be our friends and come to us if they are in trouble or need help."_

_Storybrooke Elementary School Principal Kathryn Midas said the project goes a long way toward building a healthy bond between town law enforcement and young residents. "I'm thrilled the department is reaching out to our students in such a positive way," Midas said. "So far the pilot has been a great success; the students love spending time with them."_

_Midas said she hopes to work the Police Department further to develop an anti-bullying program._

Regina couldn't suppress a grin after she finished the article. While the new chief wasn't mentioned, the project had her fingerprints all over it. Emma told her how she'd seen it in action in other communities and shared how she thought it would be a great fit in town. She caught herself smiling, remembering how excited Emma was after presenting it to the School Committee and receiving initial approval. It was the sign of a good leader: giving her employees the tools to take the lead – and the spotlight.

Given her history, Regina should have disliked the new Chief. Emma Swan was smart, accomplished and confident, and up until two months ago, those three adjectives in Storybrooke were reserved solely for Regina Mills. The Mayor was used to being the most prominent female in town, but now she was sharing the honors with the new police chief. The most surprising aspect: Regina didn't mind a bit. Instead of being jealous, she was intrigued.

Regina was surprised to find herself looking forward to Emma's weekly budget visits, Lord knows Henry's week revolved around it. Had it been so long since she had a friend? She enjoyed cooking for the woman and found herself enjoying their "accidental" dinners. And her rapport with Henry? Regina chuckled to herself. Normally she would feel threatened, except it was obvious Emma was not trying to impress, but rather just being herself. Henry adored her just the way she was; Regina couldn't blame him.

"_Bedtime."_

"_Awww, Momma."_

"_I got him." Emma stood up and cast a conspiratorial glance at the boy. "Want a ride?"_

_Henry looked confused until Emma turned her back to him and urged, "Hop on." He did, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck, his legs gripping her abdomen like a monkey. "Ack, little man, loosen your grip." _

_Emma readjusted him once more before trotting over to the stairs and bounding up as Henry giggled and shrieked on her back. Regina followed close behind. "You're setting quite the bar," she admonished with a smile._

The thing was, Regina didn't mind. At all.

XXXX

Three hours later, Ruby walked up to the side door of Stepping Stones preschool, awaiting the morning class' dismissal with a handful of other parents.

"Hey, Regina, how's it going?"

The brunette turned, surprised at the greeting. She usually only merited a nod of recognition or a quick "Hi" in passing.

"I'm doing well, thank you. How does Hunter like preschool?"

Ruby smiled at the thought of her son's excitement on Tuesdays and Thursdays. "He's lovin' it. Henry?"

"The same," she noted with a soft smile. "I get the daily rundown of who was the helper, what they had for snack, what Miss Judy read for a book. It's lovely."

Ruby paused for a second, unsure how to transition into her question, but in her own true style, she simply barreled straight ahead.

"Say, we're having our summer's-end party this weekend. Would you like to come? There will be a bunch of kids there so Henry will have friends to play with."

Regina's response was so automatic it nearly left her lips before Ruby finished the question. "Oh, thank you. But I don't—"

"The Chief will be there. She doesn't really know anyone outside of the department, I'd hate for her to feel like an outsider. You know her - it'd be nice for her to have someone she can talk to – if we can get Henry to leave her side." Both women snickered at the statement's truth.

"Alright, that would be nice. Thank you."

Ruby smiled, she could feel something she hadn't felt in a while when it came to interactions with Regina – sincerity.

"Would you do me a favor? I always loved your potato salad. I hate to impose, but could you bring some?"

Regina's smile mirrored Ruby's and she felt a tiny, surprising spark of happy anticipation. "I'd love to."

**TBC**

**Reviews sincerely appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 6

Even if Regina didn't know where Graham and Ruby lived, it would be easy to tell: Follow the line of parked cars, the joyful squeals of children, music and what sounded like a generator. She balanced a large bowl of potato salad in one arm and held Henry's hand in the other, a tight ball of nerves threatening; it had been so long since she had been to such a gathering. The last time she had been to Graham and Ruby's party she was pregnant with Henry. She smiled at the memory: Daniel drank far too much of whatever homegrown swill was brewed by one of the officers; she and her husband spent the following morning alternating turns vomiting in the bathroom for completely different reasons.

"C'mon, Momma! C'mon!" Henry tugged, straining at her grip so he could get to the source of what sounded like fun 10 seconds faster. They walked around the side of the small Cape and into the backyard: One-third of the surprisingly large yard was occupied by an inflatable bouncy house, which was quivering with the rhythmic jumps of laughing children. "Momma!" Henry was practically panting as he eyed the amusement and threatened to tear her arm out of its socket.

Regina was wondering where to drop the salad when Ruby appeared out of nowhere, relieving her of the heavy bowl. "Regina," she smiled. "Hey, Henry! We're so glad you're here. Hunter's in the bouncy house, do you wanna go?"

The boy's eyes practically bugged out as he shot a laser-like plea at his mother. "Please!"

"There's only little ones in there," Ruby informed, expertly reading the worry on Regina's face. "He won't get squashed. The guys are lifeguarding, anyway." She pointed to Graham and another man talking by the entrance.

"Well, alright, I— Henry!" The minute Regina loosed her grip a millimeter the boy was off, sprinting toward the house. She watched Graham greet him with a smile, take his shoes and hoist the boy into the entrance. Henry was immediately jumping like a maniac and waving in excitement.

Regina couldn't fight the grin. "I don't remember _that_ the last time I was here."

"Crazy, I know. The Chief rented it."

"You're kidding."

"No, she is not." Emma sidled up to the women with a smirk.

"You're responsible for that monstrosity?"

"Pardon me? I'm offended. That's the best idea ever." She pointed to the shaking house with her beer hand. "The kids jump for, like, 6 hours straight and sleep for days while Mom and Dad can eat and drink in peace. I should be issued a commendation." The blonde smirked, sipping her beer victoriously.

Ruby watched the easy rapport between the two women and felt an undertow so strong she wondered if they were blind stupid or had the willpower of cloistered monks. "Well, _I_ think it's great." She turned to Regina. "And you will, too, when Henry falls asleep on the ride home and doesn't get up until 9 a.m. tomorrow. C'mon," she urged, tugging Regina by the arm. "You need food and drink." Grabbing Emma, she ordered, "You, too. You gotta try her potato salad. _Holy God._"

Ten minutes later, Emma was doing just that, seated around a fire pit that was taking the slight chill out of the crisp mid-fall air. Plopped in a camp chair next to Regina, Emma was barely fighting off the temptation to talk through a mouth full of food.

"Ruby wasn't kidding, this is amazing," she moaned. "Is there bacon in this?"

Regina smirked, slightly embarrassed by her friend's enthusiasm. "Do you want to be alone with your food?"

"Very funny. I do feel the need to just steal the whole bowl and set it in my lap for the day."

"_Oh my God_, you're here! I can't believe you're here!" Kathryn Midas walked over and leaned down to hug the brunette. "Ruby told me you were coming, but I thought she was lying, per usual."

"I heard that!"

"Well, she _can_ be rather persuasive."

"Chief, nice to see you."

Emma raised her beer in salute while she swallowed a mouthful of potato salad. "Please call me Emma," she smiled, offering her hand. "Good to see you again."

Kathryn grabbed an empty chair on the other side of Regina. A plastic glass of wine appeared in her hand as Ruby waltzed by without stopping. "Great wait staff at this party."

Ruby offered a smirk over her shoulder. "Jam it, Midas."

"I hate to talk shop, but I wanted to thank you in person for the lunch program." The principal leaned toward Emma, beaming. "The kids are loving it. It's only been a few weeks but it's been so fantastic already."

"I read the story in the paper," Regina added, catching Emma's gaze. "Well done. Emma is apparently a master at making improvements all over town, even cookouts." Regina cocked her head at the bouncy house.

"You did that?" Kathryn's brows climbed skyward, half-impressed, half-amused.

"I can't take credit for the idea. A buddy of mine used to rent one for his cookouts and said it was the best money he ever spent for any party. I thought it would be fun for the kids."

"And here I thought Ruby had finally gone over the edge."

The party in question, several feet away eyeing a bocce match, chimed in, "_I'm not deaf, lady."_

Emma sat back and continued to enjoy her food while she watched Regina catch up with Kathryn, a friend with whom she apparently hadn't talked in quite a while. It was the most unguarded, relaxed and casual she'd even seen the Mayor. Even at their budget tutorials in the woman's own home, she was dressed for work – heels and all. But here she wore jeans, a sweatshirt and sneakers, her clothing as relaxed as her attitude.

Emma imagined walking up behind Regina and hugging her, lacing her arms around her abdomen and pulling her close, tucking her head in the crook of Regina's neck. The brunette's clothes would be soft, but her body underneath firm. Emma would revel in the resistance her arms would feel as she squeezed gently, inching her clasped forearms up just enough so they would lightly brush the underside of Regina's mesmerizing chest. Her girlfriend would squeal with surprise, then laugh and turn her head to grab Emma lips in a soft kiss, powerless against the blonde's charms and happily content at that fact.

Regina and Kathryn caught her staring, wondering why the blonde was absentmindedly grinning.

"Emma...Emma?"

"Oh." _Shit, busted._ "Oh, sorry," she apologized sheepishly. "This salad has put me in a trance. I'm going to guard that bowl."

Kathryn stood to join her. "You're going to have to fight me for it. I can't remember the last time she made that."

The cookout slid easily into the early evening. The kids kept jumping, the adults continued eating and drinking, interrupting both with intermittent games of horseshoes and bocce. Regina smiled watching Emma and Bell taunt - then take on - overnight officers Anderssen and Davis in horseshoes. For her part, Regina got a chance to reacquaint herself with old friends and acquaintances she'd only seen in passing or at town events. It was far less awkward – and much more pleasurable - than she had expected.

She watched - half-fascinated, half-puzzled - as Emma bent over to pick her horseshoe up off the ground. _How on earth does she get those pants on? _Kathryn looked on surreptitiously, watching her friend unabashedly check out the Chief's ass, then stare at her glass of wine as if it held the answer or were the culprit. Kathryn made a mental note to dig into this fascinating development later.

"You look like you're having fun," Emma observed, taking a seat fresh off a narrow loss to her colleagues. She laughed as Bell grumbled past, heading for the cooler.

Regina smiled, sincerely. "I am. It's very nice."

"It is, and we haven't even seen Henry in two hours."

"Oh my God!" Regina gasped. The blonde was right. Whether it was good conversation or a series of glasses of wine she suddenly couldn't number, she had completely forgotten about her son, for the first time ever.

"Relax," Emma laughed, placing her hand on Regina's forearm. "He's fine. He's eaten. He's back in the bouncy house."

"How?" Regina looked confused as to how the boy could possibly find sustenance without her.

"I fed him." Emma barked out a belly laugh at her friend's shocked face. "Do you think I'm that incompetent? You were busy talking to someone and all the kids were sitting down and getting fed. I got him a hot dog – cut up super tiny, thank you – some salad, potato chips and a beer."

"Emma!"

"Kidding, Regina, _God_," she laughed, tears threatening to leak out of the corner of her eyes. She dropped her voice to a whisper as she noted Regina's brown eyes were glassy and she seemed to be working too hard to follow their conversation. "How much have you had to drink?"

The brunette looked down, rueful. "Too much, I'm afraid. I was going to ask you to drive us home."

"No problem. You tell me when you want to leave." A naughty smile crossed Emma's face. "Do you think it's because you're actually drinking good wine and not swill out of a box?"

Regina giggled and smacked her friend's arm, then looked away. "Hey." Emma tugged on her sweatshirt sleeve to get her attention. "C'mon, there's nothing wrong with having a good time. We'll quietly make an exit; no one will know I'm driving you home, if that's what you're worried about. Hell, everyone here's pretty much drunk off their ass, they'll probably pass out before we leave."

Regina chuckled and patted Emma's hand, which was still resting on her forearm. "Thank you. Today has been a lot of fun. And thank you for taking care of Henry."

"Anytime," she smiled. "He's awesome and you need a break, you know? Doing everything 24-7 has to be exhausting."

"It is," she affirmed. Emma wasn't sure if Regina was admitting the truth to herself or talking to her. "It is."

A half-hour later, the sun had fully set, the fire pit now the glowing center of attention for those in the circle of camp chairs. The clink of horseshoes and random cheers of bocce players overpowered the intimate conversations taking place around the fire.

A few hearty souls were still bouncing, but most had taken up residence in their parents' laps around the fire, the flickering flames hypnotizing young, tired eyes. Henry was threatening to nod off when Regina caught Emma's gaze. The intimacy, warmth and familial nature of the environment were intoxicating. Their eyes held each other in wonder and naked allure in the dim light; the pull was so intense Emma felt short of breath and Regina's chest flushed with warmth. The brunette snapped out of their joint reverie first thanks to a loud pop from the fire and nodded at the fading boy, her message clear: It was time to go.

When Regina stood and put Henry down to retrieve her salad bowl, the boy's arms immediately shot skyward toward Emma in silent request. She smiled and gathered him into her arms. The Chief and her Deputy walked over to the bouncy house, which several adults were eyeing wickedly.

"I have the deposit on that thing. Any of you jokers take a flier and bust it, you own it," she noted pointedly, eyeing Nolan and Bell, who collapsed into a state of drunken giggles.

Shifting the now dead-weight child in her arms, she headed for the edge of the yard where she found Regina, Ruby and Graham.

"Look what you found," Ruby observed, raising an eyebrow.

"How did this happen?" she smiled, faking annoyance. "All Regina has to carry is an empty bowl?"

"You are coming out with me, soon," Ruby declared, enveloping Regina in a tight hug. "You understand?"

She nodded as Graham pulled her into a one-armed hug and bussed her cheek. "I'm really glad you came."

As Regina walked ahead, Ruby tapped Emma on her Henry-less shoulder: "You're good for her."

"Like I said, we're friends."

"_OK_."

"What?"

"'Night, Chief." Smirking, Ruby spun on a heel and headed back to the party.

Eight minutes later, the Mercedes pulled up at 108 Mifflin. Emma hopped out and unbuckled Henry from his seat, carrying him in one arm, her other hand lightly holding Regina's elbow to ensure a smooth walk to the front door.

Regina unlocked the door and turned off the alarm only to find Henry-laden Emma looking at her expectantly. "Want me to take him upstairs?" She didn't want to go traipsing around without permission.

"Please."

Emma smiled as she entered Henry's room, resplendent in a car-and-truck motif with occasional Thomas The Tank Engine posters decorating the walls. His bed sat flush against one wall, taped to which was the newspaper picture of Henry, Regina and Emma from the swearing in. She gently lowered the boy to the mattress, expecting Regina to take over, only to find the brunette sitting on the end of the bed.

"I'm a bit woozy."

"Uh, that's OK, just tell me what to do."

Regina told Emma where to find the boy's pajamas, vetoing the first two pairs the blonde pulled out. Regina undressed the boy south of the belly button while Emma took off his sweatshirt, removing wet, wrinkled fingers from his mouth. They immediately, unconsciously, returned to their home as soon as Emma released his arm. The women then worked in reverse, dressing him in a long-sleeved, two-piece train pajama set.

"I thought you said he was a light sleeper?"

"Looks like your bouncy house did the trick," she tittered. "I'll get on that commendation."

"You do that."

Emma rolled the boy off his covers, then back under, which was easier said than done given the bed rail occupying the other side of the bed. Regina hoisted herself up and slowly walked around to kiss her son's forehead. As the brunette walked out, Emma ran her fingers through his hair and rested her hand on his warm, chubby cheek. "'Night, buddy."

Entering the hallway from Henry's room, Emma heard a door close. It wasn't the bathroom, she could see the open door across the hall. That left the closed door directly across, which she deduced was Regina's bedroom. With no other choice but to make herself at home, Emma headed for the bathroom and rustled around as unobtrusively as possible to find aspirin. She knew her friend was insanely private - she didn't want to freak the woman out further by making it obvious she _had_ rummaged around – but the brunette was going to need some help with a possibly pounding head in the morning. Items acquired, Emma knocked on Regina's door. "Regina, you decent?"

No response.

"I'm coming in if I don't hear you…" she warned. If she thought Regina would freak out about the blonde seeing her upstairs bathroom, walking into her bedroom uninvited would surely induce apoplexy.

Emma grimaced; she had no choice but to go in uninvited. In her career she had seen many drunks and the damage they could accidentally do to themselves in their addled states. She had to ensure the woman was safe. Holding three aspirin and a glass of water in her left and covering her eyes with the right, she turned the knob and nudged the door open.

"Regina?"

Hearing movement off to her left, Emma peeked through the slits of her fingers and saw the brunette shuffling out of her bathroom, clad in pajamas and a tied robe. She sat as carefully as she could on the side of her bed as Emma handed over the aspirin and water, which she wordlessly consumed.

"howareyougoingtogethome?"

"I'll call one of the guys on duty and have him give me a lift back to Ruby's so I can grab my car."

"Don't have to, you can stay here."

"Huh?" Emma's body unexpectedly felt a chill and a spark of excitement simultaneously.

Regina's voice was practically a mumble, her foggy brain succumbing to the siren song of the bed as she reclined onto the mattress. "Guest room, next to Henry's." It was tempting, too tempting.

"I should go home. Please sleep on your stomach, OK?"

Regina agreed with a soft grunt, rolled onto her chest and promptly passed out. Emma spied a pad of paper and a pen on the night table, and left a short note. She drank in the sight of the gorgeous sleeping woman for a few seconds and inhaled. She couldn't help it, the room smelled like Regina: light and warm. With a sigh, she quietly left the room, stopping by Henry's one more time. She walked downstairs, turned off the lights and shut the door behind her.

Standing on the front steps between two white columns, Emma dug out her phone and dialed the weekend dispatcher directly. "Dave, it's the Chief. Who's closest to Mifflin Street?"

XXXX

Emma walked through her front door and headed straight for the kitchen. She immediately located, then cracked, the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black she got as a going-away present, poured two fingers' worth and plopped dejectedly on the couch.

Propping her feet on the coffee table, she turned the TV to ESPN and let the ambient sounds of a college football game – any game - wash over her, hoping the combination of mindless sports and strong alcohol would magically cleanse her of the feelings taking root.

She knew she could only be friends with Regina, just friends, but the woman was too goddamn stunning, smart and kind to keep her hopes from extending to a more intimate relationship. Those qualities, combined with their easygoing, blossoming friendship, made it impossible to ignore the pull of desire. And the kid, that loveable friggin' boy, who looked at her adoringly with those big, brown eyes. Tonight was the perfect example, she thought. It was too easy, too familiar, too inviting to walk around that house like it was her own, tuck the child and his mother into bed, ensuring their safety and peaceful dreams. It was too natural to hold that child in her arms without a word and get aspirin for his mother. It was too effortless to play lesbian mommies, the key problem being one party wasn't a lesbian. When Regina asked her to stay, all Emma wanted to do was ease into that king-size bed and curl herself around the town's loneliest woman. _Hell_, she chuckled ruefully, _I may be vying for that title myself._

It wasn't just that Emma was crushing hard-core on a straight woman – an always fruitless, painful dilemma she had faced before. The biggest misfortune was when she looked at Regina, she saw herself: a person who seemingly had it all together but just below the surface was far more vulnerable than anyone would ever believe. Regina was too much of a kindred spirit to resist. Yet she had to for yet another reason: Regina was her boss.

She was drawn to Regina and Henry like the Earth toward the blinding, blazing sun. If Emma kept circling, she would get pulled in – and that would end badly for everyone.

Emma returned to the kitchen to refill her glass and toast to a relationship that never was and never could be. She took a large sip and felt the burn down her throat, which sat just north of the ache in her heart. It was a night to mourn a relationship that never was. It was time to stop circling.

XXXX

_Regina landed with a thud, her back hitting the mattress as Emma whipped off her shirt and crawled on all fours toward her, breasts threatening to spill out of a tight black bra._

"_Regina," she husked, hovering over the woman for a few seconds before lowering her body the length of the brunette. Regina hissed in arousal as the weight of Emma's hips and groin pressed into hers. She shifted trying to find some friction as she watched Emma's biceps flex._

"_No, no, no," Emma pouted sexily. "We can't have that Madam Mayor, can we?"_

_The pressure of breasts upon breasts, groin upon groin, was driving Regina insane. Emma lowered her lips to Regina's ear, blonde hair curtaining them._

"_I want this. You want this. Can we have this? Can we?" The sensual whisper and hot breaths were driving Regina insane, arousal pooling in her panties and her core throbbing with need. Her entire body felt white-hot, every sense blaring at once. All she wanted to do was grab the blonde and rub herself along every single glorious inch, but she couldn't move her arms._

_Emma's lips parted, they were now nearly touching Regina's, so close she could feel them move. She repeated one question over and over, grinding her groin in time against Regina's with each query. "Can we?...Can we?...Can we?... Can w—?"_

"Momma!"

Regina woke with a gasp and a start, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. Her head – and her core – were throbbing as Henry bounded through the door.

"Mooooorning!" Henry sang, scampering onto the bed and under the covers, snuggling into her side.

Regina lay back on her pillow, two-thirds of which was now occupied by Henry.

"Good morning, love," she groaned. She turned her head to check the time and spied a note: _You took 3 aspirin at 10 p.m. Hope you feel better today. Call you later. - Emma_

Regina spent the rest of the day anxiously waiting for a call that never came, while Emma avoided making it. Figuring a private person such as Regina might be embarrassed about getting a little drunk, Emma thought a text might be less awkward and lessen any potential shame, unearned as it was.

It was 5 p.m. before she gathered the courage to pick up her cell and begin typing.

**Hey, how are you guys? Sorry I didn't call earlier. Time got away from me.**

Emma bit her lip at the white lie. She _was_ sorry.

_We're fine. Had a quiet day._

**Was Henry pooped?**

_Quite, thank you._

**I will clear a space on my wall for the commendation. I had fun yesterday, thanks for letting me hang out with my boyfriend, and you, of course.**

_I owe you the thanks. I'm a touch embarrassed by my behavior._

**Why? I'm a pro at rating inebriation and, believe me, you weren't even on the scale. You had fun and I am really happy you did and that I could be there.**

_Thanks, Emma._

**Anytime**.

Separated by 2.7 miles, both women placed their phones on a table, equally sad and relieved the conversation was over.

Four hours later, Emma was slumped on her couch, dejectedly watching the Patriots on Monday Night Football and wallowing in misery, when her cell erupted:

_Fuck tha police  
Comin' straight from the underground  
Young nigga got it bad 'cause I'm brown  
And not the other color so police think  
They have the authority to kill a minority_

A tiny beam of sunshine pierced the gray cloud over her head as N.W.A.'s classic blared. She grabbed her phone, smirking at the caller ID picture of her kissing a "shocked" Robert on the cheek. Every time she tried to change his ringtone he'd steal her phone on the sly and switch it back. She could change it now permanently without fear of a reprise, but she realized she'd miss it; it was oddly comforting in an extremely profane way.

"I'm straight outta Compton, yo!"

Emma sighed, misery quite evident in her tone. "You asshat, you're straight outta Back Bay."

"What's troubling you, my White Chocolate Princess?"

Emma snorted, she knew Robert only broke out her special nickname when he could tell she was feeling down. Before she could reply, he continued. "Wait…I know. I know that sound: love life, amirite?"

"Yeah."

"You get any since relocating to the Pine Cone State?"

"It's Pine Tree. And, no – not that it's any of your business."

"Right now it most certainly is. And if you're going without, you know what you gotta do. Stop takin' matters into your own hands…" The giant man laughed for what Emma swore was a minute straight, "…shit, hold on, I'm OK….and find someone else's hands, you dig?"

"_You dig?_ Are you playing Shaft again?"

"Nah, just reconnecting with my African-American roots, watched Jackie Brown the other night."

"Jesus, Tarantino made that. No Spike Lee?"

"Lord, no. He's pretentious and roots for every dickbag New York team. No, thank you."

"Anyway, yes, I need to get laid, but there are no prospects."

"Is it known you like the ladies?"

"Word's out, not sure how far it has traveled."

"Well, shouldn't be long, then. You've never had trouble pullin' before."

Emma sighed, following with a swig of beer. She could hear the echo of the football game over the connection; they were both watching. "Man, The Broncos look like shit," she noted, far less enthusiastically than she should have. "I love it."

Robert's baritone rumbled over the line via a chuckle. "Yes. So you gonna tell me what's up or just boo-hoo through this whole quarter?" The line went silent as both parties watched Brady hit his tight end in the numbers with a bullet. "Wait – _waitwaitwait_. I know: Mayor Mightyfine."

Emma's silence was her confirmation.

Robert crowed. "You couldn't help yourself, could you?"

"I didn't _mean_ to. She's, like, the one person in town I can't be with, but I can't stop thinking about her."

"You jus wanna—"

"No, no, that's the thing. I mean, _yes_, I want to sleep with her. _Christ, do I want to_. But it's more than that. I want to just _be_ with her and Henry: do shit around the house, take them places, make them dinner, go grocery shopping, whatever. I want to make them smile, I want to take care of them, just, you know, _be_ with them. This scares the shit out of me and hurts like a motherfucker at the same time. I've never felt this way before and I can't do anything about it. It's terrible."

Now it was Robert's turn to be stunned into silence. For the decade-plus he'd known Emma, he'd never seen her in a real relationship; he joked she was chronically unable to pronounce "U-Haul." There were some women who lasted for a month or two; one hardy soul made it four months, but that was an anomaly. Most of his friend's romantic endeavors were mutually beneficial one-night engagements.

"You there?" Emma asked, slightly scared by the quiet on the other end of the line.

"Fuck, girl," he observed, concerned. "You got it bad."

"No shit, what do I do?"

"Do I look like Ellen, woman? Hold up, just let me think."

Emma watched Denver turn over the ball. _Yay_. She could hear the hiss of a beer opening over the line.

"Well, don't shut her out. You still want to be her friend, right?"

"Definitely. She didn't do anything wrong. It's not her fault I feel this way. It's not like she led me on."

"Does she know you're gay?"

"Unsure, it hasn't come up in our conversations."

"She hasn't, like, tried to kiss you or jump your bones?"

"I wish. We're just friends – and I want to be friends. It just, you know, hurts. Jesus, I sound like I'm 12 years old." Frustrated, she flicked a bottle cap across the room, pinging it off a window.

"You sound like you're in love."

Emma sighed, resigned to the truth of the observation.

"You are settin' some world-fucking-record for sighs, girl. OK, here's your marching orders: As best you can, act situation-normal. Try to avoid spending any extra time around them, that'll only add salt to the wound. You're done with those extra budget meetings at her house, right?"

Emma felt a pang of loss at the reality of the statement. "Yeah."

"Wait, you could tell her the truth."

"Seriously? I can see it now: 'Hey, Regina: I know you've pretty much shut the world out of your life and I'm maybe the first person you've reached out to in years. So I want to reward your shitty luck in choosing me as your friend by making this as crazy uncomfortable as possible. I'm super gay for you and I want to have your children.' "

"Maybe not _that_ honest. Listen, interact with her as little as possible, as normally as possible. You don't want her to feel like she did something wrong."

"Right."

"Then go to wherever you can find some ladies of the same persuasion who are down to party and get laid. That should take the edge off."

"That's your prescription: get laid?"

"Can't hurt."

Emma placed her empty bottle on the end table and laid her head back against the couch. "True."

XXXX

Tuesday dawned cruel as it always does after a long weekend. Kathryn left her house earlier than normal to make a special swing by Granny's before school.

"Mrs. Humbert," she greeted formally, taking a seat at the counter for a quick cup.

"Ms. Midas."

"Quite the party Sunday." Kathryn smirked as she took a much-appreciated first sip.

"It was. Glad you could make it." The brunette eyed her friend expectantly, wondering if they were on the same wavelength.

"Interesting fireworks display."

Ruby raised a single eyebrow. They were. "You noticed, too?"

"How could you miss it?"

"I think the parties in question may be doing just that."

Kathryn leaned forward grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I don't think they are at all, more like they don't know how to proceed."

"Can't say I blame them. Plus, one of them, you know, isn't gay."

Adding another sugar packet, the principal grinned, stirring her coffee. "Well, I think that's up for debate, don't you?" Dying to share her theory, she muttered, "There is a way."

"Huh?"

"They _can_ be together despite their jobs."

"Get the fuck out," Ruby whispered excitedly.

"Want to help?"

The waitress' red lips parted in a wide grin. "More than anything."

**TBC**

**Reviews sincerely appreciated!**


	7. Chapter 7

"OK, we're clear?"

Emma faced the Alpha and Bravo shifts as she pointed to the whiteboard in the station's meeting/break room.

"Halloween night, Town Hall, 6 to 8 o'clock. Bravo's on patrol as usual; Bell, Nolan and I are at Town Hall. Bell: You and I are checking kids' candy. Nolan, you're on the allergy table." Both officers nodded.

Petit laughed darkly. "You sure you don't want me to check the kids' candy?"

"If I wanted razor blades inserted _into_ the candy, then yes." Emma smirked. "Otherwise, no."

"More like he'd steal all the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups."

"Keep going, Tink. Keep going," the stout man warned with a sneer.

"Anything else we need to worry about?"

Humbert jumped in. "Nah, just the usual junk. Maybe an egging. A TP'd house or two. Nothing major. We're not Detroit."

"And thank God for that. Other business?"

"Yeah, you're subbing for me at the elementary school tomorrow. Lunch program," Nolan reminded. "I've got court."

"Right, yes." Emma nodded her head as if she were trying to physically lodge the memory into her temporal lobe, then turned to Bell. "Don't let me forget that."

"Got it."

"Hey, Bell, you've got something on your nose," Petit taunted.

The blonde officer remained silent, pretending to wipe something out of her eye with her middle finger.

"Alright, children, settle down. We done?"

Met with silence, Emma was left with two words and a chuckle: "Get out."

Halloween was in two days, which meant it would be 48 hours until she saw Regina and Henry again. It had been two-and-a-half weeks since the cookout and Emma's painful decision to put a little distance in between herself, Regina and Henry. She didn't think it had been too obvious. She was able to cite work when Regina offered her two invitations to dinner; turning them down nearly killed her. The women continued to meet weekly for their regular updates in the Mayor's office; the tone was friendly, but professional as always. Regina sensed something was off with her friend and colleague, but she couldn't put her finger on it. They seemed to talk about Henry just as much as they did town business.

"_Your boyfriend misses you," Regina noted at the end of their last meeting, returning papers and notes back into folders and stacking them neatly in a pile._

Just him?_ was on the tip of Emma's tongue, but she forced it back in at the last second. _No,_ she scolded herself. _No.

"_I miss him. I've been so busy."_

"_Will we see you on Halloween?"_

_Emma smiled, God, she wanted to see them more than anything. "I'll be at Town Hall."_

_Regina nodded enthusiastically, polishing off the last sip of her mid-morning pick-me-up. "Yes. How has the response been?"_

"_Sounds like we're going to get a lot of kids. Folks are still scared someone's going to mess with their kids' candy; I can't blame them. And the allergy parents always like a second set of eyes."_

_Smiling broadly, Regina stood and followed Emma to the door. "Your community policing efforts have been…" As she searched for the right word, her eyes grabbed Emma's and held them. "Amazing," she breathed._

_Emma felt a jolt of arousal rocket to her groin and spark like a flare. "I…thank you. I'll see you on Halloween?"_

"_Of course."_

Bell watched her boss walk back into her office and tried to think up an excuse for a conversation. The Chief hadn't seemed like herself lately. Sure, she looked and acted normal, but Bell could tell something was off. When she laughed, the smile didn't reach her eyes. Her dumbass brother officers wouldn't know something was wrong unless the Chief collapsed in the bullpen wailing in sorrow. But a woman? She could tell something was bothering the blonde.

Bell popped her head in the doorway and knocked to get Emma's attention. "One quick question. If the candy-checking begins at six, what time do you want me there?"

Emma tilted her head in thought. "There's hardly any setup. Maintenance said they'll have tables ready for us; we just need to bring a trash bag for anything questionable and some of those safety pamphlets and the stickers. Quarter till six good?"

"Yeah, thanks…Hey, I have a class tonight at the gym, but I'm out by eight. Want to go grab a drink after?"

A sad grin crossed her face as she appraised her officer; she could easily read the subtext. Apparently she wasn't as good at disguising her emotions as she thought; Emma spotted the slight wrinkle of concern and uncertainty in Bell's eyes.

"I'm not feeling it tonight, to be honest, but I do want to come take your class soon. I need a few pointers."

"Sure you can keep up?"

Emma hooted at the woman's joking bravado. Bell began to leave when she was halted by an almost-nervous-sounding salutation: "Hey, Shannon?"

She stopped and turned, wide-eyed. The Chief had never called her by her first name before.

"Thanks."

Bell nodded. "Anytime."

XXXX

Emma shifted uncomfortably as she rose from the lunch table, her nightstick banging on the table. The combination of the pint-sized furniture and her regular-duty uniform, which she currently didn't wear that regularly, was conspiring against her. She couldn't believe how quickly she'd gotten used to not wearing a patrol uniform everyday; it felt strange to wear a standard duty belt again.

"You OK there?"

Emma turned her head and followed the voice to a very tall, very fit brunette.

"Yeah," she laughed. "Can't you tell by my smooth exterior that I run the police in this town?"

The woman glided over and extended a hand with a warm smile and electric blue eyes.

"I'm Liz. Liz McKenzie."

Emma took the offered hand and met it with her own. "Emma Swan, nice to meet you. Big fan of the cuisine?" She cocked her head toward the school's kitchen, where hairnet-headed women prepped food for the final lunch wave.

"Ah, yes. I love Pizza Day. But I'm here on an official capacity: lunch duty. When I'm not handing out stickers for good girls and boys who eat their lunches quietly and neatly, I also teach first grade."

"That must be amazing."

The teacher chuckled. "That's one word for it. So…chief of police, huh?"

She slowly ran her eyes from the soles of Emma's boots all the way up to her forehead, missing very little in between. Emma swallowed, she felt like a gazelle being sized up by a lion from 50 feet. She couldn't remember the last time someone outside of a bar checked her out so brazenly.

"That is correct." Emma had to force her voice to remain calm and smooth and not crack like a 13-year-old boy. A faint tingle of excitement began in her stomach; it had been far too long since she'd been on the receiving end of a good leer from an attractive woman.

The women stood side by side in the empty cafeteria staring out into the rows of vacant tables, the clank of serving trays and silverware only heightening the crackling silence in the air. The last lunch period was 5 minutes away.

"So, what do you do when you're not policing?"

Emma was starting to wonder if she was going to get jumped on the spot. Usually she did the asking, the pursuing. It was novel – and a bit thrilling – to be the prey.

"Not much, it's been pretty much work all the time."

"Do you think you could pull yourself away from the mean streets of Storybrooke for a night out?"

Surprise vanished and confidence restored, Emma turned and caught blue eyes, raising an eyebrow.

"And what did you have in mind?"

"Dinner. A movie."

Emma narrowed her eyes flirtatiously. "That sounds nice."

Liz stuck out her hand. "Give me your phone." Emma handed it over without question, quickly wondering why and thanking God the woman didn't ask for her gun.

"I assume you're busy tomorrow night," she continued, typing into Emma's cell.

"Yeah, candy check at Town Hall." _What is it with these women and typing on my phone?_

The teacher finished and handed the cell back to Emma, ensuring their fingers touched. "And what if I need to be…checked?"

Emma laughed out loud, holy Christ this woman was brazen. But hot, crazy hot. _Shit, I hope she's not literally crazy._ She made a mental note to check with Ruby.

"That could be arranged, say, Friday night?"

"Forty-eight hours? I suppose I can wait that long." The teacher turned, preparing to start her rounds monitoring tables as the bell rang. "Text me your address, I'll pick you up." The brunette sauntered away slowly, her ass filling out a pair of dress slacks just so. She looked over her shoulder and winked at the smirking officer.

Emma headed for the caf entrance, ready to high-five the students as they walked in. She felt like high-fiving herself.

_If this woman's going to be eye-fucking me all lunch, I won't make it. _She smiled to herself. _But what a way to go._

XXXX

"Ru-_bay_," Emma sang cheerfully, taking a seat at the counter. "Happy Halloween."

"Well, it is for you, apparently. I thought you police types disliked this holiday."

Ruby appraised her friend, who was in a far better mood than as of late. Since the cookout, Emma had lost some power off her fastball and was definitely - if you looked closely - subdued. She guessed it had to do with a certain Mayor and her son.

The waitress had been poking and prodding gently here and there, trying to determine the situation. They were friends, but not so close yet that she could simply demand, "What the fuck is bothering you, woman?" Kathryn had that leeway with Regina; Ruby had not earned such – yet – with Emma. The collaborators agreed they had to proceed slowly and carefully lest they spook either woman. The last Ruby heard from Kathryn was that Emma had been busy at work and had to turn down the last couple of dinner invitations from Regina. And now this: happy Emma. _Maybe she finally accepted one?_

"Eh, shouldn't be bad here. So, tell me…" She lowered her voice to a near whisper, even though the stools on either side were empty. "What do you know about Liz McKenzie?"

_Shit. _Ruby tried to look calm, masking her true reaction.

"Teaches at the elementary school. Lives over on Marine Drive, cute condo complex. Gay. And I assume has expressed an interest in you?"

"You could say that. She wasn't very subtle."

The waitress snickered, sliding a bear claw in front of the officer. "She isn't. She's extremely determined. She headed up the new playground project a couple of years ago. Organized all the fundraisers, ran the committee meetings, you name it. Super efficient, smart, gets things done, but nicely, you know? A great teacher, I hear. When she wants something, she goes for it."

Chuckling through a mouthful of pastry, the blonde nodded. "I got that impression."

"So you were on the receiving end of Liz's laser focus? Wow. What was _that_ like?"

"Intense and flattering. We're going out tomorrow night."

"Alright," Ruby smiled, but inside alarm bells rang. _I gotta text Kathryn._

"She's not crazy, right? Anything I need to worry about? Insane exes, bad breakups, red flags?

"Not that I know – and I would. I haven't seen her around town with anyone, but most of the teachers, public folks, leave town to go have some fun."

"Because she's gay?"

"Nah, because she's a teacher. Would you want to be on a first date and keep running into former students? It is a small town."

Emma raised her eyebrows in understanding as she took a final sip of her coffee. "Makes sense. All right, off to work. See you and Hunter tonight?"

"You bet."

The minute the diner door jangled closed with Emma on the other side, Ruby fished around in her apron for her cell. Turning her back toward the kitchen – and Granny's watchful gaze – she started typing.

**Just saw Emma. She's got a date with Liz McKenzie tomorrow night.**

Ruby quickly returned it to her apron before Granny noticed and went to seat a party of six that just walked through the door. Twenty minutes later, she felt the phone vibrate.

"Sue, cover Table 3? I gotta hit the ladies."

She couldn't even wait to enter the bathroom before she dug the phone out and read the reply in the hallway.

_I think that's good news, actually. Will explain later._

XXXX

"I hate Halloween," Kathryn announced as she sat in Regina's kitchen sipping a cup full of chamomile in between bites of a chocolate chip cookie.

"I imagine an elementary school principal would."

Every since Ruby's cookout, Kathryn had used the opportunity to return to her rightful place as Regina's best friend. They had been close before Daniel's death; Regina had been a godsend to her friend after Kathryn's fiancé broke off their engagement two weeks before the wedding. She tried her hardest to get Regina to open up and live a little since the tragedy – even just spend time with her – but you can only hear excuses so many times before you get the hint. Kathryn continued to call and kindly ingratiate herself as best she could, but lowered the frequency, respectful of Regina's long healing process. She always hoped her friend's shell would crack and she'd emerge the person she once was; she was thrilled to see her take those tentative first few steps at the cookout with a certain stunning new friend.

"The parties, the candy, the parade. Ay, yi yi. If I weren't going out in public tonight I'd finish that box of wine you pretend to hide in the back of your fridge."

"Hush, you," Regina scolded with a small smile. "Were there police at the parade?" She tried to sound nonchalant but didn't pull it off.

Every year, the students put their costumes on in the afternoon of the last school day before (or on) Halloween and did one lap of the parking lot while parents crammed into every square inch armed with cameras. Parking was a nightmare, which is why the police were always on hand to direct traffic into and out of the much-loved event.

Kathryn bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stifle the smirk that was dying to explode across her face. "Officer Bell directed traffic."

"Oh."

"Have you ever taken her class? She's amazing. Come with me sometime."

The brunette shook her head in automatic refusal, "I can't, I—"

"It's been four years, Regina. You need to get out and socialize."

"I honestly don't know why I continue to feed you, you're like a feral cat, I'll never get rid of you."

"Nor do you want to. Stop trying to change the subject."

"By socialize, you mean 'date.' And I don't want to have this conversation – _again_."

"No, I mean, actually talk to people over the age of 3."

"I'm talking to you."

"I don't count."

"I'm starting to think that myself. I talk to Emma."

Kathryn leaned in, interested. "Really, now? _Emma_?" This time, the smirk could not be contained.

Regina felt her cheeks get hot at the implication. "Not like that!"

"Then why are you blushing?"

"Because your assumption is so off base."

"Hmmm…"

"We're just friends. Henry adores her and I find…I enjoy talking to her, I like her company. There aren't many people my age in town to whom I can relate. She's witty, smart, ambitious."

"What about me?"

"We've established you don't count, dear."

Kathryn placed her hands over her heart and gaped in mock pain.

"Plus, she and Henry have a mutual admiration society."

"That sounds like what you'd want in a partner."

"I'm not gay!" she protested in a fierce whisper.

"Bi?"

"No!"

"You know she is, right?"

"Who?"

Kathryn wondered if Regina was rattled or obtuse. "The Chief. She's gay."

The brunette's eyes widened, she hadn't even considered the woman's sexuality or that Emma might return her affection. Hell, she couldn't even admit she had feelings for her friend.

"And how do you know this?"

"Ruby told me."

"Of course," Regina commented with an eye roll. "You would think Ruby would be smarter than to gossip about her husband's boss."

"She wasn't gossiping, the Chief mentioned it in passing. She's not a closet case."

"What on earth is that?"

"Someone who is afraid to admit her sexuality to others for fear of being rejected or attacked."

"Honestly, where do you get these terms?"

The blonde laughed at her friend's discomfort. "You are such a delicate flower. Join the 21st century, watch television. You're going to be 40, live a little. Get HBO for Christ's sake. Listen, Ruby wasn't gossiping. She was talking about socializing, going out and finding Mr. Right. The Chief informed her that if she were looking, it would be _Ms_. Right."

"Well, regardless, a person's sexual orientation is immaterial to me. I care about the person."

"So you care about her?"

"Stop trying to put words in my mouth," Regina huffed in a way that clearly indicated:

This conversation is over.

Kathryn smiled smugly. She knew two things: 1. She couldn't push Regina much further at the moment. 2. Regina was most certainly in denial.

"Well, you may not have a chance, anyway."

"What do you mean?" They reply was far too serious and rushed for an uninterested party.

"The Chief came to the lunch program yesterday and one of the teachers asked her out."

Regina was shocked, her brows knitting in concern, her chest automatically tightening, a small fissure of anxiety running up her spine. "Who?"

Kathryn sniggered. "What do you care?"

"How do you even know this?"

About to take another sip of tea, Kathryn halted the cup halfway to her mouth and unleashed a most unladylike snort. "Teachers are terrible gossips."

"Momma! I need hep with my costume!"

_Saved by the boy_, Regina thought. "He's refused to take off his costume all day, despite the fact the pants are a little big and keep falling down. I've belted it as tightly as I can but it's still loose. Help me figure out how to keep his damn pants up, OK?"

Kathryn cheered and clapped when she saw the boy enter in his costume. His eyes widened in confusion at the woman's enthusiastic reaction. "Oh, Henry. That is _perfect_."

XXXX

Trade was brisk at Storybrooke Police's inaugural candy inspection, yet that didn't stop Emma from keeping an eye out for two visitors in particular. Traffic had slowed a bit by 7:30 when Emma heard Bell giggle and saw her point toward the door: "Would you look at that?"

Emma did and found Regina, Kathryn and Officer Henry Mills, resplendent in what was possibly the tiniest police uniform known to man. Kathryn claimed she was tagging along to see her students, but in reality she wanted to get a gander at her pet projects in person.

The boy sprinted over to a smiling Emma the moment he saw her and ran into her legs, hugging them. "Cheeeeef! I miss-ded you!"

Emma dropped to a knee as soon as she could pry him off. "I missed you, too, man. I _love_ your uniform. Wow." Warmth blossomed in her chest at the child's excitement. "Look alive, Bell, your boss is here."

"Good evening, sir."

"That's Deputy Chief Mills, Bell."

"Sorry, Chief. Good evening, Deputy Chief."

"Hi…Momma, Cheef's here!"

Kathryn bit her lip as she watched the exchange, gently elbowing Regina in the ribs for good measure. The brunette replied with the universal, urgent, wide-eyed "Not now/Shut up!" stare.

Emma looked up at Regina and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi."

Kathryn stepped back a few feet and began talking to Bell; she didn't want to impede the natural course of the conversation or get sucked under by the giant pull of longing that threatened to drag in anyone within a three-foot distance. The air was practically sparking.

"I've seen a few Thomases tonight. I'm surprised he didn't want to be a train." Emma relieved Regina of Henry's candy bag and poured it on the table, looking for opened or torn wrappers or anything suspicious.

"No, he was quite adamant about entering law enforcement. He refused to use the badge that came with the costume; he insisted on using the one you gave him." She snickered and shook her head at the memory of Henrys staunch refusal. "He has quite the role model."

"Awww, come on," Emma smirked, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the candy and not the gorgeous woman a foot away. "You're going to make me blush."

"I can't imagine you blushing."

Emma lifted her head and met soft, brown eyes. "Keep going and you're going to see for yourself." _Shit, no flirting._

Regina cleared her throat, which was suddenly tight. "How is it going tonight?"

"Been good, lots of traffic. I think everyone had a good time."

An awkward silence filled the air as Emma began placing the candy back in Henry's bag.

"Emma, would you come to dinner tomorrow night? Henry misses you and I…I miss our conversations. I almost wish it were budget time again." Regina looked so heartbreakingly vulnerable, Emma wanted to gather the woman in her arms and never let her go.

"Tomorrow night? Uh…wow, I'm sorry. I'm busy."

"It's Friday night. Surely you can't be working. Even _I_ don't work on Friday nights." Regina nearly tittered at the thought someone might be more work-obsessed than her.

"No, I…um...I've got this thing." Regina noticed Emma's stammer and the fact the blonde now _was_ blushing and wondered what was going on.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly, leaning well into Emma's personal space. Emma's head nearly swam with the smell of Regina's perfume and the intensity of her sincere concern.

"Yeah, I'm OK, just…long day."

"Of course."

"Cheef!" Henry returned from a candy-fueled sprint around the auditorium with several other preschoolers.

"Deputy Chief Mills, your candy is good to go," Emma announced, handing him his bag and a bookmark. She stuck a sticker on his uniform top that announced: "The Police Are My Friends."

"What about Momma?"

Emma raised an eyebrow at the brunette, slowly peeling the back off a sticker and holding it up, waiting for approval. Regina nodded. "Absolutely," she confirmed. "The police are my friends, too."

Emma gently pressed the sticker onto a safe area of Regina's shirt, south of her collarbone but far too north of where she truly wanted to touch.

"Emma, if not tomorrow night, then soon?" Regina's tone was tentative and quiet, unsure.

"Definitely." Her face bore a smile but her stomach sank in despair. "I'll see you both soon, OK?"

She sank down to give Henry a hug. "Whoa, hey, hold up," Kathryn wandered back to the table with a grin. "Hen, want a picture of you and the Chief?"

"Yay!" Emma stayed on one knee while Henry hugged her enthusiastically around the neck.

"1…2…3." The shutter sounded on Kathryn's phone, the unofficial end to their visit. Henry gave Emma a final high-five, then took his mother's hand.

"Wow," the blonde mocked. "Wonder where he learned _that_?"

"Thank you, Chief," Regina beamed.

"Anytime."

XXXX

As is the case for most parents post trick-or-treat, bedtime didn't come easy for Henry Mills – or his mother. Hopped up from a visit with his favorite law enforcement official and the two tiny Hershey bars he was allowed to have when they got home, the boy was a touch hyper.

"I want Cheef to put me to bed," he demanded as Regina shooed him into his bedroom after a highly belligerent tooth-brushing. She began to unbutton his uniform top, only to be reprimanded. "No! I want to wear the Cheef shirt to bed."

Regina sighed. This was going to be one of those pick-your-battles evenings. "Fine, but you can't wear the badge and you have to put on pajama pants."

Henry grumbled, but gave in, holding out his hand for the badge as soon as Regina removed it from his shirt. If he couldn't wear it, he was going to hold it.

"I want Cheef to tuck me in."

"She's working, Henry." The response was automatic, but when Regina took a second to think about it, she realized Emma was most likely done by now. If she called the woman and requested she come over because Henry said so, she was pretty sure the doorbell would be ringing shortly thereafter.

"I miss her." He scooted under the covers and handed Regina his only book of choice for weeks, "All About Police Cars." Tucking herself into the tiny bed in between Henry and the wall, Regina snickered, she hardly needed the book, she knew it all by heart at this point.

Three readings later (_Why is this damn book so short?) _she heard the rhythmic breathing of her son, the silver badge still clutched in his pudgy left hand, trusty right-hand middle and index fingers in his mouth. She realized with a grin that the boy would not let Emma go. She was going to be part of his life for the foreseeable future, which meant she was going to be part of Regina's – which meant the brunette had to reach a conclusion regarding her feelings for the blonde.

She blushed hotly every time she thought about Emma because all she could think about were the sex dreams that were plaguing her sleep. She'd had four since the BBQ; each was slightly different but the outcome was the same: They were having mad, hot passionate sex – Emma the pursuer, Regina unable to move. She didn't have to be a psychologist to figure out what it meant.

Regardless, Regina tried to think it through. Was it the fact she'd gone years without a lover? Was it that Emma was new, exciting and an equal? Was she simply just starved for a friend? When she examined it logically, as she had been increasingly in her time alone, Regina came to a conclusion: She was attracted to Emma simply because she was Emma: kind, funny, sweet, ambitious, smart and caring.

That deduction led to another key question: _Am I gay?_ She'd been quick to deny it with Kathryn, but she knew that was a kneejerk reaction. Had she been attracted to a woman before? No. Was she now? Yes. _Am I gay? Does it matter? _she thought, lazily rubbing Henry's back. _And in the end, who cares?_ Regina realized that the attributes she found fascinating in Emma were independent of her gender. She liked Emma because she was Emma; the fact she was female was almost immaterial. However, when she thought about Emma's female form, it evoked very specific emotions, physical reactions and pleasing mental pictures – all of which she hadn't experienced since Daniel.

Regina exhaled smoothly. A light feeling of excitement filled her chest. She knew how she felt; it was true and real. Now, what to do next? She slowly slipped herself off the bed without waking Henry, then gently pried his fingers off the plastic badge and laid it next to his arm. They'd be hell to pay if he couldn't find it first thing tomorrow.

XXXX

November 1 arrived as usual, the back-to-normal, fun's-over greyness seemingly affecting everyone's mood, except surprisingly that of Officer Leroy Petit, who found a bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups in his locker the next afternoon.

"You're good people, Chief. I think you're alright, I don't care what the pretty one says."

"Hey!" Humbert protested. "Heard that, stumps."

Emma chuckled as she strolled out of the office, "Night, people."

Choo-Choo's monotone provided calming, if not bizarre, background noise over the scanner in her apartment an hour later as Emma finished prepping for her date. Ever since she joined the force she always kept a scanner on in her home _Jesus_, _I need to get an _actual_ radio._ Giving herself a final once-over in the mirror, she deemed herself as presentable as she was going to get: black pants, dress boots, cream-colored peasant blouse, hair down and as curly as could be considering the time she had.

Three quick knocks sounded on the door just as Emma's mind wondered off, wondering what Regina and Henry were doing tonight and what they'd be doing together if she'd accepted the dinner invitation. She opened the door to find her date on the other side, looking even taller than she did at school the other day.

"Hey," Liz smiled, leaning against the doorframe confidently. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, I am." Emma grabbed her purse and began to walk into the hallway when the brunette stopped her, gently grabbing her bicep.

"It's chilly, might want to grab a coat." Liz squeezed a bicep admiringly. "Wow, what do you do?"

Emma laughed at her forgetfulness, grabbing for the blue leather motorcycle jacket hanging on the coat rack, and shut the door.

"They let you carry a gun?" Liz mocked as they walked down the stairs.

"I know, right?"

Just as Ruby predicted, the teacher chose an out-of-town location for their date, driving Emma to neighboring Rockport for dinner.

"So, just how tall are you, anyway?" Emma grinned as she directed a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

"Bare feet? 5'10. In these boots? 6'1"."

"If you're already tall, why would you want to be taller?"

"Height is power," she purred, sipping her wine. "And I've never had any complaints."

"I bet." Emma felt her cheeks warm. "But you must scare the hell out of those little kids you teach. They must think you're a giant."

"When parents can't remember my name, mostly around the beginning of the school year, I'm usually referred to as 'the tall one.' The kids learn pretty quickly that I'm a big softie. But, yeah, those tiny chairs are a bitch."

Dinner passed easily, the women sharing their tales of how they wound up in Storybrooke and war stories about their jobs. Liz was fascinated with police work, grilling Emma about her career; Emma couldn't get enough tales from the first-grade classroom, which were endlessly hysterical.

"So last week, one of the kids' spelling words was 'organ.' They have to write the words out in their notebooks and a sentence about each. One of the kids wrote, 'My Dad has a big organ.' Turns out Dad is the organist at Our Lady of the Sea."

Emma shook with laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. "Don't tell anyone, but we photocopy the craziest sentences and have a Wall of Fame in the teachers' room. Next week, one of the words is 'screw.' I'll let you know what happens."

"Oh my God, that's hysterical."

Emma returned her hand to the table only to feel Liz gently take it in her own, her thumb rubbing her palm. She looked up, "I haven't laughed like that in a while. Haven't had a nice night out in a while. Thank you."

"Thank you for coming. I checked the movie listings and there didn't seem to be anything worth seeing. Did you have a movie in mind?"

"I can't think of the last time I knew what was playing," Emma confessed. The rhythmic stroking of Liz's thumb was practically hypnotizing.

"There's a jazz club/coffee house in town, wanna go?"

"I'd love to."

The pair soon arrived at Lucky's, a converted Victorian that flew a rainbow flag over the front stairs, right next to the pious pelican of the Louisiana state flag.

"Is this the local gay scene?"

"Somewhat," Liz smiled, taking Emma's hand as they walked up the front steps. The blonde smiled to herself, it felt good to have someone hold her hand. "Jerry, the owner, is a bassist. His wife Kate is the coffee guru, baker and occasional singer." She opened the door and escorted Emma in with a wave of her arm. "He was a professional musician in New York. They moved up here a few years ago."

"What's with the flag?"

"They have good taste."

The women grabbed a banquette in the corner and two strong coffees that Liz guaranteed Emma would like. She was right. The statuesque brunette slid her arm around Emma's shoulders and pulled her close as Jerry and his trio ran through a set of Coltrane, Davis and Monk.

"I don't know anything about jazz," Emma whispered into Liz's ear.

"Do you like what you're hearing?"

"Yes," she breathed. The combination of the music, coffee and company were incredibly seductive.

"Then that's all you need to know."

Mesmerized by the music, the pair snuggled for a set, until a yawn gave Emma away. "Let's head out," Liz suggested. "I don't want you falling asleep on me…at least here." Emma returned her grin.

Pulling up in front of Emma's building, the blonde turned to her driver. "Come up for a drink?"

"I'll come up if I get to kiss you."

A thin tingle of excitement ran down Emma's torso. "You don't have to come up for that."

She leaned forward and met her date's lips, the taste of that delicious coffee only adding to the enjoyment. As aggressive as Liz had been since they met, she let Emma dictate the pace, lips slipping and sliding until the blonde snuck in a tongue and ratcheted up the intensity.

Emma kept one hand anchored in her partner's hair, the other reaching over and pulling the woman's torso across the center console as much as she could. "Come upstairs," she smiled wolfishly. Suddenly, Emma wasn't sleepy anymore.

The pair took their party from the car to the hall outside Emma's apartment. Deciding she couldn't wait any longer, she playfully pushed the tall woman up against the wall and wedged herself in between two long legs. Lips met again, hands now free to roam and map the contours of each other's torso. Soft, happy moans gave way to a giggle.

"Shit," Emma tittered, "you're too damn tall. Why'd you have to wear those boots? I feel like I'm mountain climbing."

The brunette smirked. "Well, let me help you." She grabbed Emma by the ass and hoisted her up, Emma jumping and curling her legs around Liz's hips. The brunette spun them so Emma was now wedged against the wall, Liz assaulting her neck with kisses and nibbling on her ear.

Emma tried bucking her hips slightly to get some friction, but it was fruitless in her current position. "Take me to the couch," she husked with a grin.

Liz grinned, eyes bright with excitement and arousal. "Yes, ma'am."

Fishing the keys out of her purse while being carried – one hand still holding onto her the teacher's neck for balance – Emma opened the door. Liz carried her over to the couch, coats and purses dropping on their way, and gently deposited her, quickly diving on top and resuming earlier explorations.

_Jesus Christ, this feels so good. _Emma made an indescribable moan-growl-sigh that made Liz chuckle against the blonde's chest. "Been a while?" she asked, pecking her on the nose.

"God, yes," Emma groaned, placing her hands on either side of the brunette's face. "I'm gonna go off like a rocket, I'm warning you."

A sexy rumble bubbled up from Liz's chest. "Oooh, baby. That just means we can start all over again."

The static of the scanner on the end table broke the inviting atmosphere of rustling clothes and muffled groans.

"10-46, 228 Elmwood Avenue."

"10-4. Bravo-2. 10-46, 228 Elmwood Avenue."

"What the fuck was that?" Liz gasped.

"Scanner." The brunette still looked confused. "Police radio." Emma grinned. "Don't you think it's sexy?"

"I think that guy's voice is creepy."

Between Choo-Choo and Petit, Emma realized her guest had a point. She didn't want those two virtually in the room with her if things progressed as she expected.

"Sorry, force of habit. Hold that thought." Emma extracted herself from underneath Liz's body, turning and twisting just enough to reach for the knob, only to stop when she heard the latest call.

"10-11, residential, 108 Mifflin Street. Possible 10-14."

"10-4. Bravo-1 responding, 108 Mifflin Street."

"Fuck!" Emma shot up so quickly she nearly bumped heads with Liz.

"What?"

"That's the Mayor's house. Her alarm went off and they're looking for a possible intruder."

"You got that all from those numbers?"

"Yeah." Emma stood up like a shot, threading an arm into a vacant shirtsleeve and adjusting her pants. "God, I'm so sorry, I gotta go."

"Why? Don't you have other officers on?"

"Yeah, but…it's the Mayor and she's got a little kid and she's all alone. I need to make sure she's OK. She's my friend, you know?"

Emma found her jacket on the floor, threw it on and grabbed her keys, only to run back to the couch and kiss Liz solidly on the lips. "Can we pick this up tomorrow night? Are you free?"

The dejected-looking woman suddenly rebounded. "For you? Yes. Go. I'll lock up on my way out." Emma kissed her again, deeply, nipping her top lip as they parted. "I'll call you tomorrow." The brunette smacked Emma on the ass as she sprinted out the door on the edge of an orgasm below the belt and heart thudding in panic above. It was a terrible combination. Liz was just turning the lock and stepping into the hallway when she heard the loud rumble of Emma starting her car and peeling away. _Oh, she's driving tomorrow._

XXXX

The Mustang roared up to 108 Mifflin Street, coming to a screeching halt next to two cruisers. The sight of both in front of the house made Emma sprint up the walkway to find Humbert, Petit and a bathrobe-clad Mayor in the doorway.

"Two officers _and_ the Chief?" she smirked, while Leroy and Graham looked at Emma in confusion. "You three certainly know how to make a citizen feel protected. The neighbors will have lots to talk about tomorrow."

Emma dropped her head sheepishly. "I heard the call on the radio and wanted to make sure you…you know, you and Henry were OK."

She turned to her officers. "What's going on? Did you find someone?"

Humbert snickered while Petit practically spat his response: "Stupid, Choo-Choo. I don't know why the hell he called a 10-14. He claims the alarm company sent it but I think he's just an idiot. The alarm just went off. No one's in the house or on the grounds."

"Do me a favor, check again? I know the Mayor is tough, but it would make me feel better." The men nodded and split up, heading for the backyard one more time.

"We're fine," Regina assured, grabbing Emma's forearm. "The housekeeper must have been airing out the second floor and forgot to shut a window that was wired. I armed the alarm and it went off almost immediately."

"Is Henry OK?"

"He's fine. He woke up, but I got him back to bed."

Emma practically sagged in relief, the adrenaline from her workout with Liz and the call starting to wane. Regina warmed at the blonde's concern, nearly overwhelmed by the fact that her friend darted out, clearly off-duty, to ensure her and Henry's safety. She took in Emma's casually dressy appearance and approved. Until, that is, she spied a smear of bright red lipstick under Emma's earlobe and the matching shade further down her neck, near her collar. Her mind assembled the clues immediately: dinner invite, busy, Kathryn's news, teacher, blushing. Emma had been out with someone. Someone who had her lips all over Emma. Jealousy, hurt and fear flared immediately, her pupils nearly blown at the realization.

"What?" Emma narrowed her eyes in confusion as Regina quickly removed her hand.

Before either woman could speak further, a faint "Momma?" could be heard from the stairs. "Chief?"

Regina walked over and picked up the boy while Emma smiled. "Hey, buddy."

Sleepy eyes widened at the sight of Emma's Mustang and two cruisers parked out front.

"Police!" he chirped.

"Nothing bad, pal," Emma assured, patting him on the back. "The house had a…" She searched for a good preschool explanation. "The house had a boo-boo."

Regina remained silent. "Regina, are you—"

Leroy and Graham returned. "All clear."

Leroy keyed his mic. "Bravo-1, Bravo-2, Delta-1, 10-26 108 Mifflin Street."

Choo-Choo's response was immediate and confused.

"Delta-1?"

"10-4, Delta-1. Currently 10-10."

"10-4, Bravo-2."

"Thanks, guys. See you Monday."

"'Night Regina," Graham offered over his shoulder. Leroy simply grunted.

"Well, as you can see, we're fine. Thank you for coming." Regina's tone was icy.

"Regina, what's—"

"Chief, read me a story?" Henry reached out a fuzzy-pajama-clad arm to grab her coat and pull her in.

"Sure, pal, I'd—"

"Sweetheart, the Chief needs to leave."

"I don't have to. I'd love to stay. I—"

"Good night, Chief." Regina put her hand on the front door, signaling it was about to close, either in front of – or on - Emma. As Regina turned and closed it behind her, the last thing Emma saw was Henry's confused face sulking over his mother's shoulder. The door closed with a thud as Emma stood on the porch wondering what the fuck just happened.

**TBC**

**Reviews sincerely appreciated!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks, as always, to super-beta and friend Alaska829Snow for her insight, advice and hysterical editing notes (my favorite this week: "FUCK YOU. I AM NOT SOBBING"). Please to enjoy the longest chapter I've ever written. Didn't set out to do so but, damn, there's just a lot to cover in this one.**

Sunday morning arrived very differently for the two most powerful women in Storybrooke, Maine. The police chief woke up slowly, deliciously and sated, tangled in the bare limbs and soft comforter of her new friend.

"Good morning," Emma yawned, giving her bedmate a squeeze.

"I'll say." Liz rolled her long, shapely form on top of her guest and began pressing hot, open-mouthed, wet kisses to the column of Emma's neck, until she reached a spot that made the blonde giggle. "Big, bad, giggling cop? You are too cute."

"I _am_ human, you know."

Liz leaned on one elbow, the other hand tracing a lazy path down Emma's neck and shoulders until it reached a breast. She caressed it lovingly, then tweaked a nipple, following with an insistent tongue. "Oh," she purred, her mouth full, "I know."

Across town, the day was not as bright and beautiful when Kathryn rang the doorbell at 108 Mifflin Street.

"Wow, you look like shit."

"And good morning to you." Regina raised an unamused eyebrow, turned and headed for the kitchen.

"Why, yes, I will come in. Thank you." Kathryn let herself in, shutting the door behind her and following her friend into the kitchen. As soon as she walked in, a travel mug of coffee was placed in her hands. She eyed her friend warily. Regina looked normal: perfect makeup, hair just so, dress pants, blouse and heels. But her eyes: Kathryn knew they always held the key to the woman's state, and this one was unwell. She looked tired and hurt.

"Seriously, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Regina…"

"_Kathryn_, no."

"Do you still want to go to brunch?"

"Yes." Walking out of the kitchen and into the hall, Regina called, "Henry! Get your shoes and coat." The boy soon appeared, adorable in a Polo shirt, Dockers and Buster Browns. His bangs had been brushed to the side in a smooth sweep, glistening with some sort of product holding them in place.

"Man, Henry, I need a version of you, only slightly taller. You are too cute."

"Momma says so."

"Momma's right."

Regina was helping him into his duffle coat when the boy dropped a bomb. "Is Cheef coming, too?" Had Kathryn not been watching Regina so carefully, she wouldn't have noticed the tiny shudder that ripped through her torso. But she was and she did.

"No, honey, not today," Regina answered tightly. She looked a mix of crestfallen and pissed. Kathryn eyed her friend seriously. _Something happened._

Gently ushering the boy out into the hallway, Kathryn tried to change the subject and shoo the 800-pound elephant out of the room. "Let's shake a leg, sir. If we get there late, the fruit salad will be all picked over and Auntie Kat will be left with only nasty honeydew."

"Yuck!"

"_I know!_" She looked back and found Regina trailing uncharacteristically behind, still looking rocked by Henry's question. "You coming?"

"Yes."

"Well, hustle up, I wasn't kidding about the melon."

After brunch, Kathryn immediately made a phone call.

"Hey," Ruby answered, pushing a Hunter-laden shopping cart through the grocery store. "What's up?"

"Did something go down between our favorite friends?"

Ruby couldn't help it, she snorted out loud, which prompted a confused glance from her son and side-eye from a shopper to her right. She winked at the boy, who happily snorted in reply, thinking she was playing a game. "_Go down?_ I wish, isn't that what we're hoping for?"

"Very funny. And _yes_. However, I just left our Mayor's house and she's nuclear pissed-off about something. Have you heard anything? It's not work-mad. I've seen that. This seems personal."

Ruby tried to think; she hadn't seen Emma since Halloween. Wait… "Graham told me Regina's house alarm went off Friday night. Emma showed up, as he put it, 'all dressed up.'"

"Why was Emma there?"

"Said she heard it on the scanner."

"She brings a scanner on her dates?" Kathryn chuckled to herself. That is something Regina would do if she were a cop. Of course these two are perfect for each other.

"Heh. I'm guessing she has one in her house, like most cops I know. She was on a date with Liz?"

"Yes, Friday night." Kathryn laughed at an absurd thought. "Jesus, she didn't bring Liz to Regina's, did she?"

Ruby couldn't help but hoot at the idea. "No, but damn wouldn't you have paid to see that? Regina vs. Laser Liz? Wow." She expertly pushed the cart while she talked, selecting her groceries and swatting unwanted additions from Hunter's grabby hands. A quick run by the bakery secured a bribery donut to keep him occupied. Small victories.

"Anyway, Emma shows up, clearly off-duty, and sends Graham and Leroy to check the grounds one more time. They leave, the women are fine. They come back, Regina looks pissed."

"And he has no idea what happened?"

"No, but it was so obvious, _a guy _noticed the drop in interpersonal temperature."

Kathryn whistled low. "Well, I can't find out for a while. She's like a melted-down reactor right now, she's gotta cool down or I'll get killed. I know Regina, she's as stubborn as a mule and scared as a mouse. We have to wait until she chills out."

"What's she got to be scared of?"

"Her feelings, for one, I'd guess. Maybe thinking she's too late to do anything about it because of Liz? I can't be quite sure. I mentioned Liz on Halloween and she wasn't acting like I saw today. She's still too red-hot to get a good read. Keep your eyes open and let me know if you see anything?"

Ruby laughed. "10-4."

XXXX

Until recently, Tuesday morning 10 a.m. was a favorite time for Emma Swan. It was her weekly half-hour update with the Mayor, which after her first two weeks on the job stretched into an hour. Regina's secretary joked (always to herself, of course) that it was the Mayor's only 30-minute meeting that commanded an hour of her calendar. The first meetings were held at the conference table, but they quickly moved to two comfortable arm chairs that stood guard in front of the building's original fireplace. Yes, the women talked shop, Emma providing updates on the department, then the pair discussing future items for consideration. After about 20 minutes, or one cup of coffee, they ended up veering off into some other territory, such as their careers, current events – lately, their backgrounds – and always their favorite subject, Henry.

Each week, the meeting progressed a little further away from business and a little closer to two friends spending time together under the aegis of work. That is, until recently. Regina had sensed something was up with her friend as of late, Emma seeming a little more guarded than usual. She chalked it up to work, she knew Emma had just gone through the budget gauntlet for the first time. She was still very new to her job, of course it could catch up to a person. Regardless, the time had become Regina's favorite meeting of the week.

Until Tuesday, Nov. 5. It would be the first time she saw Emma since she all but slammed the door in her face the previous Friday night. Regina was embarrassed by her actions and didn't want to see the woman anytime soon. It was too fresh, it hurt too much, she just wanted some space. She was tempted to cancel, invent any excuse to take a week off – it would be so easy - but her professional side rejected that thought. No, they would meet and Regina would be the Mayor she was: competent, professional, all business.

Despite the cold weather, Emma walked from the station to Town Hall. She told herself she wanted the exercise, but knew deep down she was in no hurry to get to the meeting. All she knew was that Regina was incredibly upset about something Emma couldn't decipher. Her post-door-slamming text of Friday night - **Are you OK? Please let me know** - sat unanswered, regardless of how many times Emma checked over the following three days.

Emma glumly walked into the Mayor's office like she was marching to her own execution. "Hi, Laura, the Mayor in?"

The secretary looked curiously at the Chief, wondering what was going on. The blonde usually strutted in, all smiles and enthusiastic greetings. Today she was abnormally subdued and the Mayor had been moody since first-thing Monday. She wondered what on earth was going on when she pressed the intercom. "Madam Mayor, the Chief's here."

"Send her in."

Walking by Laura's desk to enter the office, she was stopped. "Here's your agenda," the secretary noted. Emma took it, confused. _Agenda? We've never had an agenda._ She read on:

**POLICE DEPARTMENT WEEKLY UPDATE MEETING**

Attendees: Mayor Regina Mills, Chief Emma Swan

Tuesday, Nov. 5, 10-10:15 a.m.

1. Halloween Candy Inspection Wrap-up

2. Election Day Polling Plan

3. Other Business

_What the hell? _Emma walked in rattled, deciding to just go with the flow. She found Regina tapping away, eyes on her screen.

"Madam Mayor?" Emma tried to adopt a friendly, joking tone: _Ha, ha, just pulling your leg. "Madam Mayor" – good one, right?_ "Madam Mayor" - it sounded so strange, this was Regina. In this office, between the two of them, it had become Regina and Emma.

"Chief, have a seat." She gestured to the chair in front of her desk, her eyes never leaving the screen. "You received the agenda from Laura?" She looked up expectantly, her voice cold and her mouth set in a hard, grim line.

"Yes."

Regina remained behind her desk, Emma in the supplicant visitor's chair. The cherry desk might as well have been 10 miles wide. "Well, let's get started…"

Emma summarized the success of the candy inspection, then they moved on to outline a plan for the Election Day polls the following Tuesday.

"We won't need to meet next week," Regina noted coolly, thankful for the automatic out of the second Tuesday in November.

"We could meet another time?" Emma looked on, hopeful.

"It's unnecessary. We'll resume the 19th."

The women had completed the agenda in 12 minutes.

Breaking character as "The Chief," Emma realized it was now or never and leaned forward. "Regina, what's wrong? Please tell me." Her voice was achingly close to begging, her eyes wide and soft.

The brunette's attention returned to her screen, fingers on the keyboard. "That will be all, Chief. Good day." She didn't dare deviate her gaze, she knew she'd crumble in an instant. She didn't have to look at her guest to easily envision hurt, confused, green eyes.

Emma stood with a sigh, spotting a picture of a smiling, sandy Henry on a beach. "Please tell Henry I said 'Hi,'" she requested softly as she walked toward the door. "I miss him." Had Emma turned her head even once on the way out, she would have caught a stray tear landing on a keyboard.

The next morning, Regina was sipping her morning coffee at her desk when she opened an interoffice envelope addressed to **Mayor Regina Mills -** **EYES ONLY**. No departmental sender address. She had to bite back a sob when she opened it up and a lone Ghirardelli dark chocolate bar slid out.

XXXX

"Hey, where are you?"

The pair was nestled in Liz's giant sleigh bed. The talented teacher sure liked to get naked, a fact for which Emma was presently very grateful. She was getting her itch scratched – as Robert put it – but it wasn't doing the trick as she had hoped. Yes, it was wonderful and amazing, but it wasn't keeping her mind off Regina and the ache of wondering what she did to so enrage and hurt her friend.

That morning, Emma had her latest weekly meeting in Regina's office, and despite the fact it had been two weeks, the Mayor hadn't thawed a bit. Still remote, all business, still behind her desk. She chuckled ruefully. The meeting did last 14 minutes. Maybe that was progress?

"Sorry, just thinking about things. Work."

Liz turned her head and assessed her lover. They had just spent the past hour enjoying hot, sweaty, athletic sex. Her partner should be content and happy, but she certainly didn't look the part. Despite the fact she was wrapped in nearly 6 feet of delicious naked, beautiful female, Emma mentally was somewhere else – and it wasn't a happy place.

"Tell me."

Lifting her head off Liz's shoulder, Emma tried to act nonchalant. "Eh, nothing. Just some troubles with the Mayor."

_The Mayor?_ That was not the answer she expected. "What kind?"

"She's been frosty lately." Emma chuckled at how severely that adjective fell short of the truth. "I'm not sure what I did wrong. She claims it's nothing, but…"

A feeling of dread seized Liz's chest as she watched Emma speak. That look. She knew that look, this wasn't business, this was personal. Was the Mayor…? _Nah, couldn't be. I would have heard. Shit, I would have made a move._ Her eyes crinkled in concern. "Then it's nothing. She'll get over it." Her lips turned up at one corner, a hint of vulnerability in her husky voice. "_I'm_ not mad at you, why don't you think about me?"

Emma pondered her current environment. _You are naked. In bed. With a gorgeous, lanky brunette._ "You're right." She grinned lasciviously, rolling on top of her bedmate, their skin still slick from earlier exertions. "No more talking." She dipped her head and slipped her tongue into Liz's mouth, finding familiar, arousing tastes. One hand expertly roamed south as she began laving the underside of a generous breast, while the other blindly reached for the harness that had buried itself somewhere in the sheets.

XXXX

Everyone tread lightly in the ensuing days, which by now were nearing a fourth week; Thanksgiving just a few days away. Only Regina knew the truth, which left the other interested parties – Emma, Ruby and Kathryn – completely in the dark as to the exact nature of the woman's icy mood. The source? That was relatively clear.

"This is dragging on too long," Ruby noted. "Despite gettin' some, Emma's not herself, and Regina looks like someone ran over puppy, backed up and ran over it again."

Kathryn looked up from reading The Mirror at Granny's counter. "That is one disturbing metaphor." She held up a finger and crooked it, signaling Ruby to come closer.

"How was your labor with Hunter?"

"What?" Eyes widened comically as Ruby tried to figure out where Kathryn was taking this conversation.

"Did it hurt?"

The question was so ridiculous, the waitress couldn't help but laugh. "It fucking killed. I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside."

"How did you feel after?"

Pausing, Ruby spent several seconds bringing herself back in time to the moment when the nurse placed her son in her arms. The person she had spent 39 weeks with, but never met until that very second. Suddenly, he was there, pink and perfect, wrapped up like a burrito, shiny, brown eyes wide and wondrous. My son.

"It was amazing. I was over the moon," she breathed, mentally back in that hospital bed, the warm, solid weight of an 8-lb 14-oz boy in her arms.

Kathryn smiled at Ruby's beaming face, lost in a memory. "And how long will you love him? How long will he be your son?"

Ruby looked at her friend like she was insane. "Forever."

Tilting her head down at the paper, which bore a picture of Regina at a ribbon-cutting, next to a story about the police department's anti-bullying initiative, she smiled. "Welcome to labor."

XXXX

Regina sat back in the fireside easy chair, uncharacteristically doing nothing. She came in to check on her too-quiet son and found him playing happily. She decided to simply sit for a few moments and gaze. He was growing so fast and time was moving so quickly, she sat and simply watched him send colorful, wooden trains up and down hills and around grooved tracks. She wanted to preserve every last second, something she couldn't do if she was moving too fast. She made a vow to make more time to regularly just stop and drink in her beautiful boy.

Henry barely registered her presence, humming and talking to himself, completely engrossed in his play. His volume increased, however, as he grabbed the plastic yellow Mustang, put in on the track to chase the trains and launched into a song:

_Hun-ter's Dad's a po-lice off-sir_

_My-eye Chief's a po-lice off-sir_

_She-da-boss, she-da-boss, she-da boss_

He looked up and smiled. "Like my song, Momma?" Regina's stomach was on the floor. "Yes," she smiled as brightly as she could. "It's wonderful."

"When do we see Cheef again? I miss her."

Regina opened her mouth, but no words came out. The phone rang. _Thank God._

"Be right back."

Exiting the room as quickly as she could, she grabbed the phone and spied Kathryn's name on the ID and picked up.

"Hello."

"What are you doing? You sound weird."

"Going insane." Regina tried to joke but the underlying melancholy was all-too-evident to her friend.

"You know what? You're going out."

"I don't want to go out with you," Regina protested. "And don't use your principal voice on me."

"I'll use it whenever I please, it comes with the doctorate. And, for your information, I don't want to go out with you, either. You're going out by yourself. I'm coming over to watch H-Bomb, you're going out."

"Where?"

"I don't care, up to you. Dinner, movie, shopping, whatever. Go and don't come back for at least two hours." As much as Kathryn loved her friend, she loved telling her what to do even more. Regina's entire life was about control and being in charge of everything, giving everyone else orders. Kathryn welcomed the opportunity to alleviate a little bit of that burden and turn the tables. "I'll be there in 45 minutes. Get your shit together."

"I can't believe you're responsible for running an entire school that shapes the next generation."

"Forty-five minutes," Kathryn repeated, ending the call.

Although initially annoyed at her friend's tough-love approach, by the time Kathryn arrived Regina was looking forward to it. She packed a bag and decided to head to the gym for some quality laps in the pool. It had been far too long and the sport had always relaxed her. She was just zipping up her duffle when the door bell rang and Kathryn let herself in without waiting for the invitation.

"Where are you going?" the blonde inquired seriously.

"The gym."

"Has Henry eaten?"

"There's a pan of macaroni and cheese in the oven. Milk with dinner, don't let him try to talk you into juice." Regina smirked as Kathryn nodded in agreement. It was true, she was a pushover. "A bowl of washed grapes is in the fridge, make sure he eats a dozen or so. You can eat, too, I suppose."

"Yay," Kathryn cheered, clapping her hands.

"Auntie Kat!" Henry ran up and leaped into the woman's arms.

"Ooof, man, what is Momma feeding you, you're getting so big." The boy grinned proudly and hugged the blonde around the neck. "Momma's gonna go out and you and I are going to eat dinner and play. Sound good?" Henry nodded and wriggled to be set down.

"Wanna play trains?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No!" he laughed, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the living room. "Bye Momma!"

Regina smiled as she shut the door behind her, listening to the conversation fading in the distance, "All right, what's going on with these trains today?"

Ninety minutes later, Regina felt much, much better. Just a half-hour swim had improved her mood greatly. Concentrating on her form demanded the brunette's complete attention, there was no room, time or brain power to think about anything – or anyone - else. It was heaven. It had been too long since she'd had a good swim workout – her arms would be reminding her of that fact tomorrow, for sure – and Regina vowed to make it a regular occurrence. She smiled, wondering what Kathryn would con out of her for substitute sitting so she could get in regular workouts. Copious food and drink, no doubt; she smirked, she could live with that.

Grabbing her toiletries and a towel, Regina headed to the showers, anxious for the piping hot spray. The only bad part of an indoor pool workout was the fact you were almost always freezing from the moment your toe went from the warm water to the cold pool deck. She stripped off her suit and stepped back under the shower, the hot spray and the warm feeling of well-used muscles making her feel fantastic. She was soaping her hair when she heard what sounded like a herd of women enter the locker room. _One of the classes must have let out._ The sound of lockers banging open and shut filled the rooms, as others made their way to the bank of shower stalls.

She heard the curtain of the next stall open and shut, then open and shut again. "Where do you think you're going?" husked a voice. A different voice giggled and Regina jumped as she heard a bang against the joint shower wall. One voice rose above the din and stopped Regina dead in her tracks.

"What the hell?" the voice whispered with a laugh.

"Let's get clean together."

Regina tried desperately not to listen, to focus on something – anything – else but it was impossible.

"Are you crazy?"

The voices stopped, replaced by silence, humming and a gasp followed by a quiet moan. _Oh God, no. _Regina eyes shot up to the source of a thud, where she found fingers gripping the top of the joint wall.

"Get your hand out of there!" Emma hissed as quietly as she could. A short smack followed, trailed by a snicker. "_No_, not here. As tempting as it is, I can't. Word gets around I'm fucking in the locker room of the gym? Forget it. I have a reputation to maintain."

Devastated as she was, Regina couldn't help but be proud of Emma.

"I'll stop if you come shower with me at my place."

"Deal."

Liz's voice lowered into predatory levels as she kissed her way up Emma's neck to her ear, the sounds easily traveling one stall over. "And when we're in _my_ shower, I'm putting my hands wherever I want."

"I'm counting on it."

Regina sagged against the shower wall, all the good vibes earned by the swim gone in an instant. She arrived home in worse condition than she left.

"I opened the red," Kathryn commented absently as she heard the front door open and close, staring at the documents on her laptop. She kept typing until she heard Regina pad into the room. She looked up, shocked to see the state in which her friend had returned.

"What happened?" she cried, incredulous.

"Nothing," came the emotionless reply, Regina lifting a glass of wine to her lips.

Kathryn put down her laptop. "Sit down," she commanded. "This ends tonight. I can't let you go on like this."

Regina did as she was told, slumped onto the couch next to her friend. Grabbing Regina's hands, she stated: "I know what's wrong."

The brunette looked horrified. "No, believe me, you don't."

"Yes, I do. You like Emma."

"Of course I do," Regina snorted, as if Kathryn just told her the sky was blue. "She's a friend."

"No, you _like_ her. Don't lie. I know when you're lying."

"Bullshit."

"Madam Mayor!" Kathryn pretended to be shocked but she truly was. Regina rarely cursed, only under extreme pressure. _This must be killing her._ "Remember when we went to Montreal and we met those guys on St. Catherine's? That guy I really liked but he never made a move and hung around you all night? And you said you weren't interested and we went back to the hotel? I know you snuck out and met him later."

Regina gaped. Now it was her turn to be surprised. _How did she find out? If she figured _that_ out, her feelings for Emma were an open book. _"All right," she sighed, "you win."

Kathryn scooted forward and laid her hand on Regina's knee. "Honey, I don't want to win, I want _you_ to win. Emma is great and you deserve someone great."

"What about the teacher?" Regina spat out the last two words like they were the most foul curse imaginable.

Kathryn couldn't help but smile, she knew Regina knew the woman's name but refused to utter it. She'd be shocked if Regina hadn't run a background check on her. "I know Liz, she's not a long-term relationship-type of gal. If you told Emma you were interested, I bet Liz would be relegated to 'friend' quickly." _Not tonight at least,_ Regina snorted to herself.

Regina laid her head back on the chair. "I don't even know what I'm doing."

"Listen, you're not picking out rings, just try each other on for size, see how you fit. No one has to know, if you're worried about the whole Mayor-Chief thing."

"I'm not, I checked her contract, there's no fraternization clause." Kathryn bit her lip. Of course Regina checked Emma's contract. Of course.

"Doesn't matter anyway, right? She ultimately reports to the City Council, not you."

"Yes."

"Then what are you waiting for? Spend time together, do fun things with Henry_, enjoy your life_. That's the best thing about Squirt, he'll just ping-pong between you and Emma in utter ecstasy. You'll never have to talk."

Laughing, she nodded. "That is true. So, I like women now." It was a declarative statement but held a hint of uncertainty.

"At least one in particular, and I think you're doing both of you a disservice if you continue to deny yourselves happiness for a minute longer. Honey, I've seen the way she looks at you, I'd kill for that."

"It'll be the talk of the town."

"So what? Like I said, you can keep it quiet. If it doesn't work out, no one has to know. If you hit it off and decide to go public, yeah, it'll be news, for a little while. Hell, McCarty's horse escaping his paddock and meandering down Main Street was news for a day. But then everything will go back to normal. Except for the fact you get to be with someone who thinks you walk on water."

"I don't know…"

"Just think about it, OK?" Kathryn he snaked her arm around a trim waist and whispered into Regina's ear. "You know, if you're looking for a girlfriend, I can fit the bill." She could feel Kathryn shaking, trying not to giggle and break character. "You're an amazing cook, you're kinda good looking and I suppose I could do stuff to you in bed if you need it. I've seen The L Word." She impishly pecked Regina's cheek, just before she was pushed away by her laughing friend.

"Get off of me," Regina smiled.

"So tell me, I gotta know. What did Emma do that night at your house that turned you into a miserable bitch?"

Regina nearly shuddered at the memory. "She showed up when she heard about the alarm. I was so touched, until I saw the lipstick on her neck and earlobe."

Hooting, Kathryn nearly snorted wine out her nose. "Daaaaamn."

"Indeed."

Near the harbor, fingers clutched desperately at a tight bed sheet as short pants and grunts sounded rhythmically.

"Stop…teasing," Emma pled, every nerve alight in glorious sensation.

"Mmmm," Liz hummed, amused, muffled thanks to her position. The vibrations from her chuckle pushed Emma closer to the edge but not close enough to achieve her goal, thanks to the teasing. She lifted her head, striking blue eyes twinkling. "You had your fun, now it's my turn. C'mon, baby, let me hear you."

"Unh!" Emma's feet were flat on the mattress, pushing up in search of more stimulation. Her calf muscles were straining so tight Emma worried she might pop a Charley Horse. Her right hand threaded itself in Liz's silky, black hair pushing her head down. "There," she panted, making one final adjustment. "_There_."

Emma closed her eyes, chasing release. She was nearly there when an image flew unbidden into her mind's eye. Causing the most delicious sensations, a brunette head looked up with a shy smile, Emma's green eyes locking on…brown. The picture, combined with Liz's expert ministrations, was like throwing gas on a fire. Arousal flared and leapt to their highest levels, causing Emma to buck frantically. Liz, hanging on for the ride, hummed again in excitement; she'd never felt Emma unleash so wildly. The blonde went reeling with a loud, long, guttural moan.

After wiping her face on the inside of Emma's thigh, Liz smirked as she pulled the blonde against her into a tight embrace. "Holy fuck. Did I do something different? You found a whole other gear. New sheets tonight, baby. Wow."

Emma instantly came to a conclusion, face still bright red, panting and completely boneless from the best orgasm she'd had in recent memory. Her mind was reeling. She couldn't escape Regina even with another woman's head between her legs. Liz was funny, smart and sexy as hell. There was only one problem. She wasn't Regina. Pain flared in her chest: she knew she had to stop seeing Liz. She liked the woman, a lot, but even after a few weeks Emma could tell their relationship would never evolve beyond dates and sex. It was wildly unfair to Liz, she knew.

Before she moved to Maine, this would have been the perfect relationship: casual sex and casual dating. It was what Emma preferred, she was never looking for love…until now. Regina Mills had tilted her landscape so drastically she couldn't even enjoy a consensual good time with a gorgeous woman. Now, on top of the anguish of her dream woman hating her, was the pain having to turn away a stunning soul who wanted nothing more than to go out and have then, then take her home and fuck her senseless. There was no other way, unless Liz would go for: _I'm in love with a straight woman, but I really like having sex with you. Is that OK?_ Emma sighed, much harsher than she intended. _Will I _ever_ feel good again?_

"That is a very heavy sigh. It's supposed to be dreamy, woman." Liz lightly pinched Emma just above the hipbone, her brows drawing in concern. _This wasn't working. Goddammit._ "Talk to me."

While Liz waited for her bedmate to form words, she began to mourn a relationship she knew was going to end in the next 15 minutes. _Fuck_. She really liked Emma, but it was clear she had it bad for the Mayor. The blonde never stated it outright but she didn't have to; Liz had been involved with enough women to read them like a book. Maybe they were an item and broke up, maybe they never got together: Liz had tried to hunt for clues. There was no way to ask outright, bringing up past bad relationships was an easy way to kill the present good one.

Who knows, it didn't make a difference, it was still overshadowing their fun. The pair went out 2-3 times a week. They had great dates, and it always ended with amazing sex. Liz's initial inkling that Emma wasn't present in their relationship had only grown stronger over time. What frustrated Liz the most was the fact that she wanted to keep it casual. She wasn't looking for a key to Emma's apartment or holidays together. She liked casual dating without commitment – a steady Plus-1 - but Emma was too far gone to even provide that. Liz didn't want commitment, but she at least needed the person to be _here_. And Emma clearly couldn't be.

Liz wound her arm around Emma's shoulders and pulled the woman's head onto her chest. _Jesus, am I going to miss that hair._ "You don't have to say it. I understand."

"I feel terrible."

"It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is. I'm so sorry." Moisture welled in green eyes, she felt so goddamn guilty. _Liz is a great person, this is so shitty._

"I'll get laid again, don't you worry," the brunette assured brightly. Liz McKenzie could put on a tough façade but this one stung.

Emma broke out in a watery laugh, she can't remember the last time she teared up over a woman. "This is so cliché, but I really, truly want to be your friend."

Liz chuckled, squeezing Emma, enjoying the last feel of her bare form. "It's not you, it's me?"

"It is!"

"I know, that's what makes it so funny." She pressed a kiss to the crown of Emma's head. "Yes, of course. And I mean that." The funny thing was, she really did. "Who else am I going to get to fix my tickets?" Emma turned and leaned into her lover for a final, thorough kiss, each tasting the other on languidly stroking tongues.

XXXX

The following night, Ruby smiled to herself as she opened a bottle of wine and waited for her guest's arrival. A tingle of excitement rustled in her belly as she thought about the text she received that morning.

**Can you sneak out for a drink tonight?**

_No, but come over. Hunter's in bed by 7:30 and drinks are way cheaper at my place._

**OK.**

She had been trying to get Emma alone for the past few weeks, but it had proved difficult between work and Liz. The only time they saw each other was Granny's and that wasn't the best place for a private conversation. Now, finally, she might be able to get a read on the situation.

As the doorbell rang, Hunter came flying out of nowhere in his footy pajamas, always thinking the person at the door was for him, despite the fact it rarely was. "C'mon in," hollered Ruby from the kitchen, prompting Emma to do just that.

"Hey, Hunter," Emma greeted with a tight smile. It almost hurt to look at him because all she saw was Henry.

"You Henry's Chief!" the boy exclaimed. Ruby walked in and grinned at her son's conclusion. The look quickly changed to one of concern when she glanced at her friend, who was trying to conceal the fact that she just took a virtual punch to the heart.

"I'll put him to bed. Make yourself at home. Wine's open in the kitchen."

Ruby walked into the living room several minutes later, her own glass in hand, to find Emma sipping and staring off into space.

"You look tough."

"Thank you?" Emma snickered.

"You and Liz not getting on?"

"No, no not that."

"So you _are_ getting on." Ruby launched a dirty chuckle and raised her eyebrows.

"Not anymore. We broke it off."

"What happened?" Ruby leaned forward, now unsure if Emma was upset about Regina, Liz or both.

"It's me. I…" Emma paused, as if she were poised on a cliff with one leg dangling off. Could she trust Ruby? Emma always felt she could read people, and when she looked at her friend she saw nothing but sincere, concerned eyes. "I need you to promise this stays between us."

"Absolutely."

Emma took a deep breath and leapt: "I'm in love with Regina."

Ruby remained stock-still. She wanted to jump up and down triumphantly, scream with excitement and joy. She did neither. Instead, her face broke into a bright, brilliant smile as she reached for Emma's hand. "I am so happy for you both."

"Well, don't be," Emma advised ruefully. "She's pissed at me, I don't know why, and she's straight."

Ruby leaned back and took a sip of wine, trying to compose her answers. _I can't fucking wait to text Kathryn._ "I don't know why she's closed off. I've just seen her in passing at the preschool. I've tried to shoot the shit but she was always on the run. I got the hint she didn't want to talk."

Emma frowned. _Dammit, no one knows._ "As for Regina being straight, I think her tastes are widening."

"What does that mean?"

Ruby was slightly annoyed Emma didn't understand what she thought was a good turn of phrase. "It means I've seen the way she looks at you…I haven't seen her look at anyone like that since Daniel. Hell, I didn't see her smile, laugh or socialize until you blew into town. I don't think you realize how big a deal that is. So, yeah, if you need it spelled out: She likes you."

"She told you?"

"No, but it's obvious. Have you not seen the way she looks at you?"

Emma tried to think back. She knew what she felt for Regina and figured she looked like a love-struck idiot. Then she tried to bring up images of their time together. The meetings at the house, in her office. The cookout. _Oh._

"So now she's gay?"

"Well, for you she is."

"Really?" Emma looked skeptical, as if she were misunderstanding this. Surely this good fortune could not be destined for her.

"Tell me, professional lesbian, is there some magic age by which if you don't find yourself attracted to women, you'll never be?"

"No." Ruby tilted her head in a virtual _duh_. "Well, she's got a funny way of showing it," Emma added.

"I've known Regina a long time, she's scared. And when she's scared, she lashes out. You gotta admit, it's a lot to handle. She's a single mother and has been raising that boy alone since the womb. She's shut out her friends, she has no family, works full time and…Jesus, I'm sure she hasn't had sex in, what, probably four years." Emma blanched at the assumption. "And, now, when this very private person – yet also a public figure – finds someone she really likes, it's a woman and the chief of police."

"And that's the other thing!" Emma groused. "We can't be together. She must have an election to think about. She'd never win re-election if word got out she was sleeping with the Chief."

Narrowing her eyes, one corner of Ruby's lips turned skyward. "OK, first. Don't assume the town is homophobic because of the geography. I think you'll find it's surprisingly intelligent and accepting where that's concerned. And Regina's not elected."

"What?"

"She's appointed."

"But…" Emma stammered, mind blown. "I thought mayors were elected."

"It's a little confusing. In any other town, she'd be called the 'town manager.' Storybrooke restructured its government in the '80s and went from an elected mayor who ran everything to an elected five-person City Council/appointed town manager setup. The town was booming and at town meeting residents thought the structure would better-serve the town.

"You know an awful lot about politics."

"Granny was on City Council for years, I had no choice."

"So she's hired, just like me?"

"Right, the town – for whatever reason – really wanted to keep the mayor title, so they did. But, yes, she was hired by a search committee, approved by the City Council and has a contract just like you."

"That's pretty damn confusing."

"Heh, welcome to Storybrooke. But, bottom line: The City Council is your boss, ultimately, not Regina."

"So, I could…?" Emma trailed off, afraid to complete the question for fear she was reaching the wrong conclusion. Hope fluttered wildly in her chest.

"Yup. You could get together, just keep it low-key for a while, would be my advice."

It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted. A radiant smile split across her face, excitement racing down her spine. "I could be with her," she breathed, believing for the first time.

"Yeah, you could. Now, how do we make it happen?"

XXXX

Ruby stifled a yawn as she walked into preschool the following morning. She had been up late strategizing with Emma, then even later talking to Kathryn. The blonde had experienced a similar breakthrough across town, leaving both women very hopeful their friends were _thisclose_ to working out their differences and finally giving each other a try.

Hunter Humbert was extremely thankful that morning because it was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, which meant he got to go to school an extra day. Students in the two- and three-day classes were having a combined Thanksgiving pageant/open house for parents, which is why the boy was frantically pulling his mother toward the hallway. " 'mon Mom! Mom-Mom-Mom, c'mon!"

"Hunter, _relax_," she urged. The pair walked into the classroom, which had exploded in little-hands-made decorations of orange, brown and yellow. Spying friends, Hunter took off immediately, which left Ruby to greet his teacher. "Make sure you check out his thankful artwork," Miss Judy advised, pointing toward the wall. One entire wall was jammed with hand-drawn sheets of paper outlining what each child was thankful for. Ruby spotted Hunter's right away.

Obviously printed by the teacher, the top read **HUNTER IS THANKFUL FOR…** while the bottom read **A DOG**. In between was a large – if not abstract – hand-drawn picture of a brown dog, the one Hunter had been angling for all year and had yet to receive. _This child is slick_, Ruby smiled. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture to text to Graham. She scanned the other drawings, heart warming at the innocent earnestness on display: family, toys, grandparents, friends. Then her eyes rested on one that made her catch her breath.

**HENRY IS THANKFUL FOR…**

**MY MOMMA AND MY CHIEF**

In between was a picture of two large circles, each with two lines coming out the sides and two out the bottom, sandwiching a smaller stick figure. The big circle on the left had black Crayola hair, the big circle on the right was topped with an electrified rat's rest of canary-yellow crayon.

_Holy shit._ Gaping, Ruby discretely raised her cell and snapped a pic, texting it without comment to Kathryn, just as Regina and Henry walked in. Ruby sauntered away before Regina could catch her near Henry's picture, taking a spot in the corner to see what happened.

"Momma, look!" Henry cried, pulling his mother toward his masterpiece. Regina smiled at his enthusiasm and switched her focus from her son to the picture on the wall. She gasped quietly, her heart melting and sinking simultaneously. From the corner, Ruby would swear she saw the woman sway slightly, rocked by the revelation.

"I…I love it, Henry. It's wonderful." Pleased with the compliment, Henry dashed off to play with friends, leaving Regina to stand and gape at her son's perception of their life. She realized she couldn't avoid Emma forever. Through 3-year-old force of will (_fwee-and-a-half,_ she heard Emma imitate in her head), Henry had forced the woman into their family. Emma had become important to him and, ostensibly, he to her. Regina accepted that had to get over this pain; she couldn't deny her son any longer. She was unsure Kathryn was right about the allegedly temporary nature of Emma's relationship with the teacher, but she had to reach out. Ruby watched, fascinated and clandestine, as emotions and thoughts flashed over Regina's face. The woman soon turned and headed for the hallway pulling out her personal cell as she crossed the threshold.

More nervous than she had been in forever, Regina pulled up Emma's contact – under Favorites, no less – and hit Call, her heart hammering in her chest as the phone rang.

Over at the station, Emma was eating an embarrassingly large slice of Martha's pumpkin bread at her desk when her phone rang. She nearly choked when she saw the name.

"Regina? Are you OK?"

The brunette couldn't believe how eager, yet worried, Emma sounded.

"I'm fine. Is there any way you could spare an hour? I'm at Henry's preschool Thanksgiving pageant and I think you should be here."

**TBC**

**Reviews greatly appreciated! A big Brava! to the two readers who deduced that Lucy Lawless was the inspiration for Liz.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you for your support of this story, especially Guest reviewers and reblogging tumblrians whom I cannot thank personally. And thanks as always to Alaska829Snow who lets me pummel her with feels and weird texts.**

"Are you safe? Is everything OK?" Emma narrowed her eyes in a blend of confusion and concern. Regina calls her for the first time in a month and calmly, quietly, asks her to come to Henry's school pageant? First reaction: Yay! Second: What the fuck?

_Is everything OK?_ Regina paused, that was a good question. "It's…it's good. He'd…we'd…like you to be here." Her voice was so soft, Emma almost had to strain to hear her, a fact exacerbated by Nolan's voice suddenly booming out of the break room in an angry whine: "WHO ATE THE LAST PIECE OF PUMPKIN BREAD?"

_And that's another reason to leave_. "I'll be right there." Emma ended the call and brushed any remaining crumb-evidence off her desk, then briskly walked out of her office, holding up a palm to an accusing Nolan before he could utter a word. "Gotta go. Meeting." She theatrically flung on her winter parka with POLICE emblazoned across the back in big, white, block letters as she rounded Martha's desk. "Call if you need me."

The dispatcher nodded, nonplussed; Emma already out the door, Nolan took her spot in front of Martha. "You got any more?" His lips were set in a disappointed pout. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the ring of the official line. "Storybrooke Police, you're being recorded…"

Nolan began to walk away when he heard the urgent, repeated snap of fingers. "…what's your address, ma'am?" He turned and saw Martha open up a desk drawer, pull out another cellophane-wrapped loaf and toss it to the officer. "…we'll get an officer there right away." Nolan pecked the woman on the cheek as he passed. Martha keyed the dispatch mic and tried to act as if she disliked the affection: "Alpha-2, what's your 20?"

Nolan was polishing off his first slice of pumpkin bread by the time Emma walked into Henry's classroom, which was bustling with the buzz of excited children and families – a riot of color, movement and sound. A staffer approached the slightly overwhelmed woman with a smile. "Good morning."

"Hi," Emma replied, scanning the room for Regina.

"Are you looking for your child?"

"I…uh…"

"Emma, hi."

The blonde nearly melted at the tender greeting she heard from behind. Her name hadn't slid from Regina's mouth in four weeks; it was like a balm on her raw soul. She beamed at the brunette who had sidled up next to her.

"Katie, this is my friend, Emma." Regina turned to the blonde, still smiling in nervous confusion as to her friend's mood and why she was here. "This is Miss Katie, one of Henry's teachers."

"Oh." Emma extended her hand. The woman looked exactly like a preschool teacher should: warm, friendly and welcoming.

"Henry's a wonderful boy. He's a lovely addition to our classroom." Katie turned her head, hearing her name called across the classroom and excused herself, leaving the two women alone, at last.

"Hi," Emma breathed, wondering if she looked like she felt: a love-struck idiot. "Um…"

"You're probably wondering why I called you."

"Kinda, but…I like that you called. I'm happy to be here," Emma rambled, worried that if she said the wrong thing, Madam Mayor would return at once. Regina gently grabbed Emma by the forearm and guided her to the wall of drawings. "C'mon, there's something I think you should see."

Across the room, as Ruby watched the women walk toward the wall of drawings, she felt her phone buzz. The message was from Kathryn, in reply to Ruby's earlier text of Henry's masterpiece.

**Game-set-match**

Emma took in all the pictures, scanning until she found Henry's. She inhaled sharply, her heart squeezing painfully. The boy's portrayal of himself, his mother and Emma sat naturally in between two other family pictures and below one little girl who was most thankful for Peppa Pig.

Emma opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. She didn't know what to say. _Was this good? Is she mad?_ Regina looked on in empathetic amusement, she had felt the same way about 15 minutes earlier when she first saw the drawing.

"My hair…I, uh…I don't think that's an accurate representation," Emma noted with a grin.

Regina gestured toward Emma's standard work-bun. "Well, not _now_." The two women simply stared at each other in wonder with soft, quizzical eyes.

"Families, if you'd follow us to the basement and take your seats." The announcement broke the women's twin reverie, Emma looking shocked by the request. _Families? _While the blonde struggled to complete the thought, Regina's lips turned up at one corner as she nodded and understood: _Follow me. _She did just that, Regina leading them downstairs, to two seats in the corner in the very last row.

"Why are we back here?" Emma joked quietly. "I'd think you'd have some sort of throne up front befitting your position."

Regina scoffed and surreptitiously smacked Emma on the arm. _This is good,_ Emma thought, trying not to get her hopes up. _Banter is good._

"If you must know, Henry insisted I not sit up front or anywhere where he could see me." The brunette pretended to be affronted. "'Don't sit up front, I nervous,' " Regina imitated, affecting Henry's high-pitched voice.

"How does he even know what 'nervous' is?"

"I know, honestly."

"Good thing he made his intentions clear. I know you would camp out to get the best seat." Regina's heart warmed as Emma's tone was one of admiration, not mocking. "I'd keep you company. Protect you from bears or whatever wildlife roams around this town as we sat out in the cold dark."

"Please," she scoffed. "We haven't had a bear in this neighborhood in over a year."

"What?!"

"Families, if I could have your attention." Emma's sudden fear of bear-related attacks was interrupted as Henry's teacher stood at the head of the small hall/auditorium. "Thank you for joining us this morning. The children have been learning about Thanksgiving and are excited to share a few songs with the special people in their life."

Resplendent in construction paper Pilgrim hats and Indian headdresses, the preschoolers entered from the back of the room and made their way to the front to the sound of adoring sighs, "Awwws" and the sound of camera phone shutters clicking away.

Ruby slyly texted in her lap as she watched the women in the corner. They were so entranced with each other, she thought she could stand right in front of them waving and they wouldn't even notice.

**If you see a mushroom cloud of emotion over the preschool, it's our friends finally getting their shit settled**

_Bad?_

**Nooooo. They look like they want to jump each other on the spot.**

_Take video!_

Ruby paused to watch Hunter's class sing about turkeys. _Oh God, this song._ He'd been singing it at home for two weeks. Graham joked it was the worst ear worm he'd ever heard – and he was right: "ONE little, TWO little, THREE little TUR-keys / FOUR little, FIVE little, SIX little TUR-keys."

Ruby ensured the shutter sound was muted as she secretly zoomed in across the room and snapped a quick pic of the women. Both looked straight ahead, mouths slightly agape, every emotion flying across their faces. A piece of paper couldn't fit in between them, despite the fact there was plenty of room – they were the only two in the back row. No one, save for Ruby, was paying them any attention. Every other set of eyes was glued forward, staring the smiling chorus of 3-year-olds shout-singing about turkey overpopulation.

**Look at this, then delete it. **Ruby attached the pic, then deleted the original.

_Hoooooly shit. Happy Thanksgiving._

**The Indians and the Pilgrims have made up**

_And look like they want to make out_

**God Bless America!**

_We are so crashing Mifflin on Friday_

**Huh?**

_I have an idea_

**Oh, Jesus, help me**

It was a surreal scene from the back row, Emma's brain trying to process far too much stimulation at once. She tried to concentrate on the enthusiastic, if not incredibly loud, 3-year-olds singing - _How are there this many songs about turkeys?_

While everything was loud on the outside, Emma remained stock still on the inside, feeling as if she were about to explode from the proximity to her brunette. She had ached for the woman for weeks and, suddenly, they were so close she could smell Regina's perfume and seemingly feel warmth radiating off her firm body. She was trying to concentrate on the program – something about Pilgrims now – when she shifted in her seat. Her right hand dropped between their chairs, her pinky accidentally grazing Regina's fingers. The touch was electric, prompting a soft, quick intake of breath from her right. Emma couldn't look at the woman, she was only human; she knew just one glance would overwhelm her resistance and cause her to gather Regina in her arms, begging for forgiveness for her still-cloudy crime.

She went to remove her hand and the accompanying temptation when Regina took the overcoat that was resting over her crossed legs and shifted it, covering the small gap in between their chairs. Cover secured, Regina linked her pinky with Emma's, her thumb gently rubbing the blonde's wrist a few times in reassurance.

A jolt of arousal flared in her core, a shudder of excitement and hope exploding across her chest like fireworks. She turned toward Regina, disbelieving, only to find the woman staring straight ahead at her Pilgrim-hatted son, excitedly chant-singing his tiny heart out: "The PIL-grims came to a-MER-i-ca, a-MER-i-ca, a-MER-i-ca …" Regina moved her head a quarter turn, dipping it in a shy grin toward Emma. The tiniest of physical contact felt incredibly hot and illicit, Regina couldn't believe the feelings it produced. She softly smiled back, bashful, the message clear: _It's OK. This is good._

It was beyond good, which is why Emma was disappointed to feel Regina's finger pull away to clap when Henry's song ended. She mirrored the motion out of politeness, although she really wanted to boo the kids for ending her not-so-public display of affection. Her ire was short-lived, the brunette sneaking her hand back under the coat, linking pinkies with Emma once again. She blew out a strangled breath. _Jesus Christ._

Pilgrims safely landed in America, the song – and the performance – was over. Parents were invited to partake of refreshments and mingle; Henry made a beeline for his mother and his best friend, still sitting in the back row.

"CHEEEEF!" he cried, flinging himself into Emma's arms so hard his hat fell off. "You here!"

"I wouldn't miss this, buddy." Emma's heart squeezed as he lumbered into her lap and flung his arms around neck.

"Hi, Momma. Did I do good?"

Regina smirked, surprisingly content with being an after-thought to her son. "You did very well. I loved it."

"Yeah, man, you were great."

"Sweetheart, do you want to go get a snack?"

Henry nodded and took off for the snack table. "Be right back!"

Regina turned, suddenly uncertain now that she was unable to hide behind the festivities. "Emma, I…"

"Not here." Her request was soft and gentle, she didn't want to have this conversation in a room teeming with dozens of people. "Can I take you guys for a ride? Could you play hooky for the afternoon?"

Regina considered the request. It was the day before Thanksgiving, town offices were closing today at 3 o'clock anyway. She didn't have any meetings or pressing business. "Yes," she smiled, pulling out her phone and dialing her office. "Laura? I'm taking the rest of the day off. I'll see you Monday. Happy Thanksgiving." Placing her phone back in her purse, Regina looked up. "I'm all yours."

Emma cleared her suddenly tight throat. "Uh, good. OK. Let me call the station and swap my cruiser for my car. I'll be back here in about 15 minutes. That OK?" Regina nodded as Emma stood, the blonde wishing she didn't have to leave, like it would break whatever magical spell she was under. "Fifteen minutes," she repeated to herself. "Yeah. Be right back."

XXXX

Emma called the station, informing Martha she was taking a personal half-day, then headed to her apartment to swap the cruiser for the Mustang and hastily clean out any detritus that had piled up: sweatshirt, pair of sneakers, two Red Sox hats and 17 coffee cups from Granny's. _Finally_, she smiled to herself. _I get them in the car. _She pulled back into the school parking lot and found Regina talking to Ruby outside her Benz, Hunter and Henry playing tag and running in circles. The boys stopped, stunned, when they heard Emma's car rumble in and come to a halt.

"Whoooooooa!" Henry cried. "Cheef's car!" The boys rushed over to check it out.

"Hey," Emma greeted, eyeing Ruby as she jogged up to the pair. "Ready to go?"

Regina sucked in a short breath at her friend's appearance. Emma had let her hair down and had swapped the police parka for a red leather jacket. Nerves and arousal flickered in her stomach; Emma's lush curls had played a starring role in what she called her "nocturnal musings" regarding the chief. And that jacket? "Yes."

"Where are you two off to?" Ruby tried - oh God, she tried so hard - to bite back an all-knowing smirk.

"Goin' for a ride."

"Very nice, have fun. I'll catch up with you both later." She turned and called for her son, "Hunter, time to go."

"Henry, you, too."

"Would you let me into your car? I need to grab Henry's seat." Regina tossed Emma the keys and watched the woman remove the seat from her car and install it into the back of the Mustang while the boy bopped around excitedly. She quite enjoyed the view, unabashedly admiring Emma's firm backside sticking out of the door of the Mustang as she secured the booster in the back seat.

Ruby took a final glance at the pair as she pulled away, catching Regina check out Emma's ass. _Oh, for fuck's sake. If that kid wasn't there, that Mustang would be rocking like a hobby horse._

"Did you bring your car seat certification paperwork again? I'd like to ensure it's up to date," Regina teased.

Emma gave the seat straps a final pull and unfolded herself from the car. She walked around to the passenger side and held open the door for Regina. "Get in," she growled with a smirk. "Anyone here want a ride in my cool car?"

"Meeeeee!"

Henry scrambled into the seat, Emma buckling him in tight. Regina looked back from the front seat and nodded in approval. Last one in, Emma buckled up, then turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. She revved it a few times for Henry's sake. "Wow!" he squealed in excitement.

"It certainly is loud," Regina noted.

"I think you mean _cool_," Emma corrected. "Would you rather the chorus of screeching little people?"

"Good point." Regina appraised the interior. It was shiny, well cared-for and smelled like leather. Her slacks squeaked against the seat as she adjusted her posture and admired Emma deftly shifting through the gears as they drove out of town. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Emma turned on the radio low, soft jazz filling the car to offset the silence. She expected Henry to do the deed, but he was apparently too mesmerized by the ride to speak. She could see him in the rear view mirror, swiveling his head right and left watching Route 1 North fly by out the window.

Emma laid her forearm on the center console her shifting hand palm up in a silent request. Picking up the signal, Regina removed the glove from her left hand and threaded her fingers in between Emma's. It felt warm, solid and safe.

The Mustang soon pulled up to a small beach in Camden. "Da beach!" Henry squealed. "Let's go to da beach!" Being late November it was overcast and cold, high 40s, but with no wind, Emma figured a beach walk would be a nice, calm setting for a talk.

"I don't have the right shoes," Regina noted, eyeing the landscape.

Emma's response was quick and serious. "I'll carry you." Regina had no doubt she would. She re-examined her boots; the heel wasn't that high. "I suppose they'll do."

Emma smiled, letting go of her hand and jamming a black winter beanie on her head. She reached in the back seat and pulled out a matching scarf to tie around her neck. "Henry, hat," Regina ordered. The boy grumbled as he put the hat on his head, but perked up when Emma opened the door and let him out of his seat. The beach was deserted, the harbor in the distance empty, all boats long removed for dry dock.

"Don't run ahead too far!" Regina yelled to her son's back as he sprinted onto the sand. Emma walked around the car meeting her with an extended hand, which Regina took. The women slowly, silently, walked hand-in-hand alongside the cold surf. Henry ran ahead with a fearsome cry, racing after seagulls who squawked off, annoyed at the rude interruption.

He'd return every few minutes or so, a chubby palm full of wet rocks and small shells. "Treasure!" he yelled excitedly, jamming the mess into Emma's palm. Her left pocket was quickly filling up with wet, sandy fortune.

"I feel like this is some horrible beach equivalent of deforestation," she chuckled. Those were the only words spoken between them since they began their walk. Both were afraid to break the silence. They knew something was going to happen.

Regina buckled first. "I'm so sorry. I feel terrible. I've been horrible to you."

Emma's first reaction was "It's OK," but swallowed the words before they could escape her mouth. It wasn't OK. She wasn't OK. It was a heart-wrenching month. "I just don't know why you were so mad, what did I do?" she choked out, suddenly feeling weepy.

Regina looked straight ahead, afraid to catch green eyes. "Nothing worthy of my behavior. It was me." She paused; this is it. "I'm scared."

"About?" Emma squeezed her hand for a touch of courage.

"I value your friendship so much…and I've developed…feelings for you."

Emma paused, making sure the brunette had finished her statement. "Feelings beyond friendship?" She tried to tamp down the burning excitement building in her chest. If she was wrong, this was going to be devastating.

"Yes." The confirmation felt heavy leaving her lips. "I've been alone for so long now, I wonder if I'm confusing friendship with something else, but I…I've never had feelings like this for a woman before."

"Does that bother you?" The pair giggled in unison as they watched a ruddy-cheeked Henry run toward the receding waves, only to shriek when they returned, stronger, roaring as they chased him further up into the beach.

The smell of salt water was thick in the air, the rhythmic thrum of the waves crashing against the sand hypnotizing. Regina felt like her heart was going to explode or hammer out of her chest; either way, she may not survive this conversation.

"Not that you're a woman. I find the more I think about it I…I like that."

Emma laughed, relieved. "I like that, too."

"It's just, I worried that I was confusing friendship with other feelings because I've been alone for so long. It's moot now, anyway. You have a girlfriend and—"

"I don't have a girlfriend."

Shocked at the statement, Regina stopped dead in her tracks. Emma jerked back slightly at the immediate loss of momentum, unaware the brunette had come to a halt. "But how–?"

Emma turned to face Regina, grabbing both of her hands, quickly wiping the one burdened by wet, sandy gifts on her thigh. She forced the brunette to hold her gaze: "You can't be with someone when all you want is someone else."

Regina sucked in a quick gasp but before she could respond, Henry ran up and crashed into their legs with a giggle. Emma stood shocked, while Regina smiled down sweetly at her son. "Sweetheart, would you find me a pretty rock for my desk?"

"Sure! Yeaaaaaaaaaaaah!" He set off for the poor gulls once more.

"What did you conclude: Your feelings for me, is it loneliness?" Emma braced for the emotional impact, afraid she might be crushed if the answer was yes.

"No." Regina stepped forward, her chest pressing into Emma's. "I have feelings for you because you're you. Because I'm attracted to you." Green eyes welled with moisture as Regina, suddenly brave with courage, continued. "You are smart and funny, kind and caring. When I'm not with you I find myself wanting to be with you. And when I'm with you all I want to do is touch you."

Emma dipped her head, her heart racing a mile a minute. She blinked, sending a few tears down her cheek. _It can't be. I can't believe it._ The blonde started to laugh nervously, unable to process her joy and form words. Regina took offense, immediately forgetting the last words out of her friend's mouth.

"Are you _laughing_ at me?" she spat, pulling her hands out of Emma's grasp. "I just told you my deepest feelings and you have the utter gall to—"

"No! No, Jesus, no. I can't…" The giggles picked up once again. Emma held up a hand asking for mercy, staving off Regina either storming away or slapping her face. "I…" Emma raised her eyes to Regina's once more; the brunette gaped at the sincerity and naked emotion on display. "I'm fucking crazy about you. Oh, shit, I said 'fuck.' Oh God, I said, 'shit.' I'm so sorry. I just…I want to be with you all the time but I thought you were straight and it hurt too much to spend time with you and Henry."

"So you're not dating the teacher?" Despite the actions and evidence of the day, jealousy flared in Regina's eyes at the mere mention of Emma's former lover. The green look was not lost on Emma, who thought it was adorable. She shook her head.

"I told her that I couldn't get over another woman. It was unfair to her."

"Where do we go from here?" Regina asked uncertainly, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Emma took a step closer and placed her hands on Regina's shoulders, pulling her close as she stared at red, lush lips and …

"I FOUND A ROCK MOMMA!" Both heads turned to see Henry run over with a smooth, surprisingly beautiful small white rock, the size of a marble. "You like it?"

The pair began laughing at the absurdity of the moment, their foreheads touching as shoulders heaved with laughter. The weight of risk and fear had lifted, replaced by excitement and hope. "I love it." He handed it over and sprinted away again calling over his shoulder, "Cheef, I find one for you!"

"You better not lose that rock, lady," Emma warned, leaning in for short, tender kiss, then pulled the brunette into an embrace, burying her head in Regina's neck. "Good God, I've wanted to do that for months."

Regina smiled, practically vibrating from desire, long-dormant emotions and physical responses roaring back to life. Emma's lips were so smooth and she swore she could taste the salt from the sea. "Was that OK?" Emma pulled back, unsure.

"Yes."

"Can I do it again?"

Regina beamed, affection beating so strong in her chest she worried it would crack. "Yes." Emma leaned in again, Regina in her arms, her lips gently exploring the brunette's, slipping and sliding gently, playfully pulling. She turned her attention from lips to eyes, gently pecking each eyelid, then her forehead and temple. Fisting handfuls of red leather, Regina could feel Emma's lips moving as she panted against her ear. "Jesus, Regina…"

"Hugs! Cheef, Momma, I want a hug, too." The dynamo came sprinting up, his face red from exertion. Each woman instinctively released an arm and reached out, gathering him into a now group hug. "Found your rock." Stubby fingers uncurled to unveil a light brown speckled specimen.

"It's awesome, thank you."

The boy looked up at the pair, "Swing me!"

"Want to head back?" Regina nodded, moving to the opposite side of Henry, each grabbing an arm. "1…2…3!" Regina called as they lifted the boy in the air, repeating the action all the way back to the car.

Energy depleted from the excitement of the class Thanksgiving party and an impromptu beach visit, Henry passed out in the back seat of the Mustang about 5 minutes after they pulled out of the parking lot. Emma and Regina held hands in giddy amusement all the way back to the preschool parking lot, where Regina picked up her car, following Emma and conked-out Henry back to Mifflin Street.

When they arrived, it was a mirror image of their return from the cookout, Emma scooping the sleeping boy out of his car seat – no mean feat in a two-door with bucket seats - and carrying him into the house.

"What are you feeding him?" Emma joked in a whisper. Regina removed his coat and hat while he remained, still sleeping, in the blonde's arms. Emma carried the child to his room and gently placed him on his bed. She took off his sneakers – which seemed to contain half the beach's apportion of sand - and laid a quilt over his body. Unconsciously knowing he was home, two fingers automatically disappeared into his mouth as he burrowed into the bed under the blanket. Turning to leave the room, she was surprised to find Regina hadn't followed her upstairs.

She set off down the stairs and found Regina sitting on the couch, in front of a newly made fire. They eyed each other with expectation: What on earth do we do now?

"We're going to have to change his sheets, I think he's got half the beach up there in bed with him," Emma grinned.

Regina sucked in a small gasp at the pronoun: "we." As in, "I will be here. I will help with the laundry. I will love your son. You don't have to do this alone anymore." She doubted Emma even noticed her choice of words, but they spoke volumes.

"You look really tired." Emma sat next to the brunette on the couch and took her hand. Now that she had held it, she seemed unable to stop.

"That's quite the line. Does that work on all the ladies?"

Emma chuckled in embarrassment. "I meant, you look like you could use a nap, too. I mean…damn, I just…" Now she laughed outright. "I am super smooth with the ladies, I will have you know."

"Oh, I believe it."

"But not anymore." Regina's brows dropped in confusion. She leaned forward and nuzzled into Regina's inviting neck. _God that feels amazing,_ the brunette thought, the smooth shock of hair rubbing her neck.

"I only want to work my charms on one woman," Emma admitted between kisses.

Emma could feel Regina grin. "You're right, I am tired."

"Ha! I knew it." Regina lightly pinched Emma's side. "Gah!"

"Don't gloat." Regina reclined the length of the couch and patted the empty space behind her. Emma wrapped herself around Regina in a microsecond, reveling in the day's events.

"This good?" Emma was unsure; she didn't want to move to fast in any aspect of this fledgling endeavor.

"You have no idea," came the deep, dreamy reply. The two women nestled into each other even further and promptly fell asleep.

They had been sleeping for a couple of hours when Emma felt a small body awkwardly – and familiarly – climb on the couch and up onto her side, draping itself over her.

"Hi, Cheef," Henry whispered loudly near her ear, trying to stay quiet but failing spectacularly. "You awake?"

Emma cracked an eye. As if a 30-pound wriggling weight wouldn't have broken her slumber. "Hey, bud. What's up?"

"Momma asleep?"

Emma looked down and saw a smirking Regina, her eyes squeezed closed. She was trying not to giggle.

"Yup."

"I miss-ded you, Cheef," the boy confessed sadly, as if it were a secret between the two of them. "You stay?" The question was so sincere and tender, Emma's heart squeezed painfully. She tightened her grip on Regina, who burrowed further into the blonde's strong arms.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Yay!"

Regina turned into Emma's embrace and stared adoringly into green eyes. Feeling an enormous wave of affection and desire, the brunette pushed herself up and boldly pressed a chaste, tentative kiss to Emma's lips.

Emma's hand reached up to cradle her face, smiling into the small, yet monumental, gesture. The mood was broken by an ebullient Henry. "Kisses!" he cried, scrambling over Emma's torso with little concern for his flying, socked feet, landing on the floor. "I kiss Momma!" He leaned in to peck his mother on the cheek, stealing her face from Emma. "Love you."

"Hey!" Emma protested with a smirk.

"I kiss you, too." Henry did just that, a loud, wet smack on her lips. "I love you."

His statement was so bright, sincere and matter-of-fact - _Duh, _of course_ I love you_ - Emma could scarcely process it. Regina watched in wonder the impact that the three small words had on a grown adult. I-love-yous flew around the Mills house with abandon on a daily basis, but it was clear that Emma had grown unfamiliar with them over time.

Emma's throat felt tight and dry as child stared at her quizzically. "I…" she stammered, trying to find her voice, "I love you, too."

A big, toothy grin was her approval. "I have a snack?" _Right_, Regina thought with a laugh, _now onto important matters_. "Yes, meet you in the kitchen." She shifted into a sitting position as Henry thundered out of the room. "Are you OK?"

Emma pulled herself up, mirroring Regina. "Yeah," she smiled. "I haven't said those words in a long time." Regina reached over and cupped Emma's face with one hand, caressing her cheek with a thumb. "You're wonderful."

"I want to be…for you, for him."

"Momma! Cheef! Snack?"

"C'mon." Regina grabbed Emma's hand and led her to the kitchen. "We have a boy to feed."

Seated in the kitchen, Henry was rewarded with two Oreos and a glass of milk. Emma looked at Regina expectantly and was awarded the same. _Yay_. "This seems like a silly question, but what are you doing tomorrow?"

Emma looked at her strangely. "Working?" As if there could be another answer. "I can't remember the last Thanksgiving I didn't work."

"That's so sad." Regina's heart sounded like it was about to break.

"Not really. I always worked because others had places to go." Regina looked like she was about to cry. "Awww, I'm OK." Emma threw an arm around Regina's shoulder and pulled her close. It felt so good, so natural, already. "It's not like I was missing anything. I'd crash friends' dinners after my shift. I got my turkey, don't you cry."

Regina caught Emma's gaze in a look of utter sincerity. She didn't have to say anything, her eyes spoke for her: _Your Thanksgiving is here. You are wanted here._ The brunette leaned over and initiated a tender, awkward kiss. It had been so long, she felt like a virgin once more, relearning how to kiss, how to love. Henry, for his part, was seriously eating Oreos - separating the cookies from the filling - completely unaware of the change in the relationship between his favorite women.

"What…" Emma began, clearing her throat. Regina was overpowering her with her actions in every way. "What are you guys doing?"

"It's just us. Usually Kathryn joins us but her parents are flying into Portland, she's meeting them there. I bought a small bird – we'll have plenty of turkey all winter."

Emma busted out her best flirtatious gaze. "Do you think I could, maybe come over after and help alleviate your turkey burden?"

"I'm counting on it," she smiled. "Wait, would you…" she stopped, suddenly unsure.

"What?"

"Would you perhaps stay over tonight? I could make us dinner and we could watch a movie? I know Henry would like it." Regina scooted closer and placed her hands on Emma's. "I feel like I just got you back and I don't want you to leave so soon. We could make up for lost time. I have the guest room, it's next to Henry's."

"No…right…yes. I mean, damn, absolutely. Guest room, yes." Emma shook her head as if to realign her ability to speak.

"What I said on the beach, about when you're not here, wanting you to be here, I meant it."

A soft smile crossed Emma's face. "I don't doubt it." She brought Regina's hand to her lips and kissed it. "I know this is all new to you and I want you to know: You set the pace. You do whatever feels comfortable. I am not rushing you into anything. I'm just happy being with you, do you understand?"

Regina pressed her lips to Emma's, a touch more bold and confident. "Yes. Are you happy kissing me, too?"

Emma snickered and threaded her hands into Regina's hair, pulling her gently in for a kiss. "You could say that."

XXXX

Post-dinner, Emma ran back to her apartment to trade the Mustang for her chief's cruiser and grab her patrol uniform, pajamas, a change of clothes and her portable gun safe. The trio soon found themselves on the couch, Henry smack in the middle in his footie pajamas.

"Neither of you have seen Toy Story? Seriously?"

Both Millses looked on confused. "Should we have?"

"Uh, _yes_. Let's fix that now." Emma draped her arm across the back of the couch and played with Regina's hair as the movie unfolded. Henry was fascinated with the bright colors and funny toys. Emma pretended something was wrong with the remote, fast-forwarding any time scary Sid had screentime.

"Regina, you need a new remote," Emma insisted.

"You're right, dear. I'm sorry," the brunette smirked, playing along.

Henry barely made it to the end of the movie, fading as Christmas and Andy's new puppy arrived. Emma jiggled the boy at the end. "What'd you think?"

"I loved it," he yawned. "To finity and beyond." He turned toward Regina. "Bedtime, Momma?"

"You must be tired if you're asking, baby boy." She stood and held out her arms. "C'mon." Regina expertly lifted the child into her arms, carrying him up the stairs as Emma followed close behind. She missed this. Teeth brushed and snuggled under flannel sheets, he sleepily accepted double kisses and twice the tucking in.

"Night, Mommas," he yawned. Four eyes widened at the plural as they hustled out into the hallway.

"I…"

Regina placed her finger on Emma's gaping lips and followed with a tender kiss. "I'm beat. I'm going downstairs and lock up, unless you want to hang out?"

"Of course I do, but I have to be up early. I'm covering Bell's day shift, she's going to her folks'. Bed's a good idea." Regina headed downstairs to shut off lights, ensure the fire was out and set the alarm while Emma brushed her teeth. They met again outside the guest room.

"If you need more blankets they're in the closet. Want me to set an alarm?"

"Don't worry about it, I'll set my phone."

"Do you want to tuck me in?"

Emma swallowed thickly. Holy shit did she. "More than anything, but once I'm in your bed, there's no way you're getting me out. I need to be a good girl and stay here."

"You're right. How did you get to be the sensible one?"

Emma shrugged her shoulders and smiled, stepping forward for a goodnight kiss. It was tender, yet insistent, communicating how she felt. No tongue, that was Regina's call. Emma's hands roamed the Regina's back in reassuring strokes as their noses bumped and nuzzled playfully.

"I can only be so good," Emma panted.

The brunette grinned and headed for the door. "Regina?" The query was tentative and soft. "Thank you for today." That seemed so inadequate, Emma thought. "I can't even…"

Regina held up her hand. "I know," she whispered, placing her palm over her heart. "I know. Good night."

"Night."

Emma Swan got into bed, the sheets clean and cool against her overheated skin. She closed her eyes in peace, utterly content for the first time in nearly two months, more thankful than she had ever been in her entire life. Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.

**TBC**

**Reviews sincerely appreciated!**

**A/N2: My 2-month-old, 1-terabyte Mac hard drive failed out of nowhere the day I went to post this. Luckily, I had the edited version in my e-mail, so I didn't lose this chapter. However, all of my notes and the beginning of Ch. 10 are on the fried drive. The good news: I subscribe to daily, offsite backup (seriously, do it!) so I will be able to restore everything. I'm waiting to hear how long it will take to have the drive reformatted or replaced, then I can work on restoring everything. That's all a very long-winded explanation of the fact I may not be able to make my deadline next Sunday. I will do my best; I know how much many of you look forward to reading it on Sundays and I look forward to posting it then, as well. Follow me on leftsideofthecouch dot tumblr dot com, I'll update you there. Thanks, as always, for your support. **


	10. Chapter 10

The 5 a.m. alarm seemed even earlier than usual. Emma rolled over, cursing in her mind. She wanted to stay in bed, but not the one she presently occupied in the guest room.

No, she wanted to silently pad across the hall and slip under the covers of Regina's king sized bed. She imagined lush cotton sheets and the comforting weight of a warm, heavy duvet embracing her as she snuggled up behind the woman of her dreams, sleeping soundly.

She'd snake her arm around a slim hip, feeling Regina's warmth from chest to shin, drawing her petite frame into her own body, like two ends of a magnet pulled together. She would bury her nose in sleek, black hair, smelling mint shampoo and the scent of her clothes, her body, her house - the warm, homey fragrance she had come to associate with the brunette.

Regina would shift, half-conscious, registering two things: Emma's arrival and the desire to sleep longer. She would grab the blonde's arm and hug herself closer, quietly mumbling one word: "Sleep." Emma would smile and close her eyes, tucked into the woman she loved and peacefully drift off once more, as content as she had ever been**.**

Emma's phone alarm rang again, the snooze feature ripping her out of a pleasant daydream. Dammit, she wanted to cross that hallway and make her fantasy a reality but she couldn't: 1. She had to work in 2 hours. 2. She had promised Regina she could set the pace. In all her relationships, which fell into two categories - short-lived and incredibly short-lived - it had always been the other woman who wanted more: more dates, more sleepovers, more commitment, more everything. Emma had never felt the keening pull of love, the desire to drop everything and just be with another person. Until Regina. Robert once joked Emma couldn't even pronounce "U-Haul," but now? She didn't just want to rent a U-Haul truck immediately, she wanted to buy one.

Just 24 hours earlier, Emma woke up, alone in her bed, heartsick about breaking it off with Liz and wondering how to approach Regina. Now, the world had deliciously tilted on its axis.

She wished she could blow off her shift and stay here, watching the Macy's parade with Henry, helping Regina make dinner, getting lovingly shooed out of the kitchen for sneaking bites early. Her mood saddened until she realized she still could have that day, it'd just be around dinnertime. A bright feeling of hope radiated across her chest at the realization.

The tinkling bells of the alarm sounded a third time. _Fuck, all right._ Emma rose and rummaged through her duffle bag for her toiletries. _I'll just get through this shift, it will go quick and quiet, and then I will be back here to enjoy Thanksgiving with the people I love._

Emma walked into the hallway and startled. Standing outside her bedroom was Regina, cute and still sleepy in a grey cotton robe. The beautiful, make-up free face smiled at her through a yawn, impossibly gorgeous, even half-conscious and sleep-mussed. Emma longed to take her to bed and snuggle the morning away. Policing and turkey be damned.

"Hi," she whispered, aware of Henry sleeping one room over. "I'm sorry, did my alarm wake you? You didn't have to get up."

Regina approached the blonde and hugged her, reveling in the sheer freedom to do so. She snuggled into Emma's athletic frame, covered by a well-loved grey sweatshirt and blue-striped pajama pants. She smiled with a sigh and moved slightly, feeling Emma's breasts move with her. _Wait._ Her brain caught up to the situation. _She's not wearing…those are her…_ A rush of warmth and intimacy overcame the brunette, one thought on her mind: _I wish she didn't have to go to work._

Emma hummed and enjoyed the feel of comfortable fabric under her fingertips, her hands resting on Regina's lower back. She was aching to dip them lower, ghosting them over a firm ass and grabbing two handfuls. _Mine._ She scraped up a remaining shred of self-restraint and held back. _The waiting is going to kill me._

"This is so cruel," she whined with a yawn.

"I know, but you have to go police my town."

"Your town?" Emma chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

Regina pulled back and brushed her lips over Emma's.

"This is not helping," she warned. "I have to get in the shower."

Regina lifted an eyebrow lasciviously with a haughty smirk.

"No!" Emma laughed in a whisper. She figured Regina was kidding, shower-sharing was quite the leap from the relatively chaste kissing they had so far enjoyed. She's hadn't even dared try to French the woman or cop a feel. "You don't have to get up, sleep in. Go back to bed, I'll see you tonight."

Emma pecked Regina on the cheek and walked into the bathroom, her restraint nearly gone. One more kiss and she'd take her up against the wall. Regina grinned. When she heard the shower running, she made her way downstairs. If her girlfriend – girlfriend! she squealed to herself – had to work early, the least Regina could do was make her breakfast.

Showered and changed, Emma headed downstairs, surprised by – and then following - the scent of brewed coffee and bacon. She walked into the kitchen, a bobby pin in her teeth, securing the final strands of her bun. "Oh my Lord."

She spied her girlfriend – girlfriend! she smiled – sitting at the table in her robe, chewing daintily on a piece of bacon as she read The Mirror. The empty seat across from her bore pancakes, bacon and coffee. Regina looked up at the appreciative exclamation and gaped. There stood Emma in her patrol uniform: tie, shiny badge, utility belt, boots and crisp patrol blues.

"What?" Emma looked down at her shirt, then at her shoulders. "What did I miss?"

"No…no, nothing's wrong, it's just, I've never seen you in this uniform before," she breathed. She'd seen Emma in her dress blues, but most of the time she wore the business-casual khaki Dockers and blue SPD-issued Polo.

"Oh, yeah, well, in a patrol car today, gotta wear it." Emma cocked her head at Regina's dreamy expression. "You like?"

"Yes," she husked, walking over. Deep down, Regina knew Emma already radiated a sensual, masculine energy but this – _this_ – this was a whole other level of rugged sensuality. Regina ran her hands appreciatively down Emma's firm biceps and straightened her tie – which was already perfectly straight – wrists providing delicious pressure against the blonde's firm chest.

"Oh my God, you're a Badge Bunny?" Emma laughed at her amazing fortune.

"What's that?"

"A woman who's attracted only to cops."

"Definitely," she purred. Surprised by the jolt of arousal the uniform sparked, she pulled a shocked Emma down by the tie into a thorough kiss. For the first time, Regina gently poked her tongue out, stroking it against Emma's lips, which opened immediately. Emma met it with her own, caressing gently, a throb instantly flaring in her core. Regina tasted like hazelnut coffee and smelled like a warm bed on a lazy Sunday morning.

Emma pulled away regrettably, panting. "Huh…oh, God. I…I…Regina, wait." The brunette pulled away, chest heaving. Emma smirked and reached into her breast pocket, pulling out a pair of reflective aviator glasses. Slipping them on, she adopted a stern voice and inquired in her best serious cop voice, "Ma'am, do you need any assistance?"

Grinning wolfishly, Regina pushed Emma back and up against the refrigerator, pinning her solidly, Emma's duty belt pressing awkwardly over her bellybutton. She snaked her tongue back into the blonde's chuckling mouth. Emma Swan was never much for religion, but at the moment she wondered which god she should thank for this amazing blessing. _Fuck it, I'll thank 'em all._

The blonde had painful decisions to make from time to time, but at the moment she couldn't think of one more unpleasant than the knowledge this delicious early morning make-out session had to end. If it went on any longer she'd be tempted to quit her job altogether and head upstairs to ravish her girlfriend. Plus, Emma figured she had about three more minutes before she'd need a new pair of underwear.

"Sweetheart, hold up…stop." Regina pulled away sulking, nipping at Emma's bottom lip. "Oh my God, are you pouting?" She laughed at the Mayor of Storybrooke sporting a rather pathetic look, bottom lip jutting out.

The brunette tried to look mad at the turn of events, but couldn't withhold the smile that turned up the corners of her lips. "No."

Emma tucked the sunglasses back in her pocket, pushed herself off the fridge and pecked Regina on the cheek. "Liar." She sat and took a first, rich sip of coffee. _All that before caffeine. Lucky me._

"You know I didn't want to stop," she soothed, digging into her pancakes. "I wanted to quit the job I love, leave the town to its own devices, take you upstairs and spend the day in bed with you." Regina nodded, mid-sip. "But I feel we have some things to talk about in that regard. And, you know, Henry is sleeping upstairs." Her voice dropped in sensual promise as she held brown eyes in a steady gaze. "And when I do take you to bed, believe me, you're not going to want him within a half-mile."

Regina's mouth gaped into a perfect o while Emma laughed joyously in between bites of bacon.

XXXX

It had been a pretty quiet holiday shift as Thanksgivings go, Emma mused, as she sat in her cruiser on her lunch break. Calling a wrecker for a minivan out of gas was the highlight. She had run into the grocery store – the only place open - just before the early noon close to grab a sandwich, passing floral on the way out. Her eyes landed on a large seasonal arrangement when she got an idea. She sped over to the floral counter with her lunch.

"Hey, could you ring me up here?"

"Sure."

"Do you guys have any roses?"

The florist looked in the empty refrigerated display. "Let me check out back." She disappeared then returned with a handful.

"Last dozen."

Emma smiled at her ingenuity, she bet Regina would love flowers. "I'll take them."

_I have the best-smelling cruiser_, she thought with a grin. She chuckled, anticipating Leroy's reaction when he hopped in for Bravo shift. _Heh._ She was parked at the harbor, eating a ham-and-cheese wrap in her car, the wind whipping off the water, whitecaps peaking, the waves dull and gray. If she had to eat in a car, at least the view was nice. She pulled out her phone to pass the time, then realized she knew of one other law enforcement official who was most likely eating his lunch in his cruiser at the very same time.

She snapped a picture of the blustery harbor and sent it off without remark.

The response was quick. **Pretty. Looks fuckin freezing, tho.**

She hadn't spoken to Robert in a week; he'd moved to nights for several days, the opposite schedules conspiring against them. She had news, it was time to share. Chuckling as she typed, Emma wondered how quickly her phone would ring in response to:

_I want to buy a U-Haul._

Within 30 seconds, N.W.A blared.

"With the teacher? Get out!"

"No, we broke up."

"What? Then who?"

She let him figure it out, remaining silent. She could hear him chewing and ostensibly thinking on the other end of the line. "What the hell are you eating?" she asked.

"Pumpkin muffin from Dunks. This shit's like crack."Suddenly, he gasped. "Mayor Mightyfine?"

"Mmm hmmm." She tried to disguise the absolutely joy in her hum and failed spectacularly.

"Get the fuck out! When? How? I thought she froze you out."

"Well, she thawed yesterday. Invited me to Henry's school pageant. We talked and she admitted she had feelings for me."

"And you for her."

"Just a bit," Emma laughed. "I stayed over last night and —"

"Girl, didn't she just figure out she's a vagatarian? Give her a break. She's gotta, like, process and stuff."

Emma snickered. "I didn't sleep with her, dummy. I mean, Jesus, I want to, but I told her she sets the pace."

Robert laughed. "You're a real gentleman, Swan."

"I just bought her flowers, I'm going over for Thanksgiving dinner after my shift."

"Look at you, all romantic and shit. When's the last time you bought a lady flowers?"

"Can't remember."

"Ooooooh, Swan, you got it baaaaaad. I love it!" He practically giggled, his baritone ringing out merrily. "You're gonna be a wife and mama, fixing shit around the house with your big 'ol butch tool belt, killing spiders, building bookcases and shit…" He couldn't continue, collapsing into more laughter.

"I don't know why I talk to you."

"You love me, woman."

"True."

"I gotta meet this amazing specimen soon. The Woman Who Bagged Emma Swan: Damn, she must be magic."

Emma pictured Regina as she left her that morning, adorable in her pajamas and robe. It was all so domestic, Regina seeing Emma off with a kiss as she left for work. It was a situation she never thought she wanted, until now. "She sure is."

"Oh my God, you are so fucking gone. I love it." And he did. Robert considered Emma family and worried she'd be a lone wolf until the end of her days. He'd approved of some of the women she'd dated before, but no one lasted long – and no one had turned her head and captured her heart like Mayor Regina Mills. _I have to meet her._

The sharp squawk of the cruiser radio cut off Emma's response.

"Delta-1, 10-7?"

Emma wiped her mouth and tossed her sandwich wrapper in a bag. "Hold up man." Keying the mic she replied, "Negative."

"Delta-1, 10-16, 318 Pitney."

"10-4, 10-16, 318 Pitney."

"Got a call, gotta go, domestic."

"On Thanksgiving? Heh, you have fun with that one. Alright, give my best to the missus." He ended the call before Emma could tell him to go screw.

Emma hit the lights and flew to the address – domestic calls on Thanksgiving tended to be uglier than normal. She arrived at the modest ranch to find a man screaming and pounding at the front door.

"LET ME IN YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES, I WANT MY DINNER!"

"Hey!" Emma yelled, approaching the walkway, pulling on her leather gloves. "What's the problem?"

"My FUCKING PARENTS won't let me in for turkey." Emma saw a first-floor curtain part and a set of eyes peek out.

"Alright, man, chill. What's your name?" She stepped closer and assessed the suspect: mid to late 20s, disheveled, wild-eyed, several days' worth of stubble, angry and erratic. She knew that look: tweaker.

"Marc."

"You live here, Marc?" She took one step closer, slow and easy.

"No, THEY KICKED ME OUT." The man turned to the house, mania seeping out of his pores as he screamed his answer at the locked door. Emma used the time to subtly key the mic on her winter patrol jacket and issue a quiet request for backup. "Alpha-1, Delta-1. 10-78, 10-100-64, 108 Pitney."

"10-4, Delta-1 10-76." Emma sighed internally. _Thank God, Nolan would be here soon, this guy isn't going down without a fight._

The man looked back at her, pleading. "Aren't you going to make them let me in?"

"I can't force them, Marc." She tried to sound as calm as possible, hoping her tone might influence his. "When did you get kicked out?"

Frustrated, he ran a hand through his short brown hair, then rubbed his neck erratically. "Dunno, can't remember exactly. Couple of months ago."

"You work in town? Where are you staying now?"

As the man began pacing, Emma sized him up. He was about her size, thin and wiry. But when a person was high on meth, he could have the strength of three men and none of their common sense.

"Crashing with friends, I do some day work down on the docks and..." His answer was cut off by Nolan's arrival, announced by his cruiser quietly pulling up behind Emma's and the soft thud of the driver's side door as the officer stepped out. The suspect's mood suddenly altered from suspicious to completely paranoid.

"Who's this?" he yelled, stabbing at the air in Nolan's direction. "Why is he here?"

"I figured you might want to talk to a guy, you know, man to man." Nolan approached slowly, his eyes never leaving the suspect. His palms hands were splayed in front of his chest as nonthreatening as possible.

"You're trying to take me in," he hollered, angered at the betrayal. "You want to take me to jail!"

Emma put her palms up and out, mimicking her colleague's body language. It had been a while since she had to subdue one of these crazy fuckers. _I hope Nolan is up to date on his takedown training._

"No. No way. We just want to talk, I'll give you a ride wherever you want to go."

Nolan examined the scene. This freak was either going to do two things: go after them or try to force his way into the house. Marc quickly chose the latter.

"I'M NOT LEAVING UNTIL I GET MY FUCKING TURKEY!" He spun and ran surprisingly fast toward the large living room picture window. The officers took off hot on his heels trying to catch him before he could crash through it and slice himself to ribbons. They caught him just as he leapt to jump, dragging the man to the ground in a heap.

Nolan nearly had him restrained when one of the suspect's limbs kicked free, allowing him to break free. Emma scrambled and dove, grabbing Marc by the ankle, slamming him to the ground on his stomach. Defensively it was a terrible position as she had to dodge his free foot, which was kicking blindly in an attempt to dislodge her. The toe of his boot nailed her on the forearm, which while painful stopped him from struggling long enough for her to jump on his lower back. Unfortunately, as she went to grab one arm, the tip of his wild-swinging elbow on the other nailed her straight in the eye.

"Unh!" she yelled, rolling off the man, temporarily blinded by pain and defensive tears.

Unable to see, she heard Nolan tackle the man once more, grunting as the suspect was secured in a hold. "You alright?" Nolan asked.

"I will be, can't see right now." She rose off the ground on all fours, trying to get her bearings and will her good eye open; it had slammed down in solidarity with its injured companion, tears leaking out in protection. "You got him?"

Emma heard Marc struggling, the sound of limbs flailing against the cold, hard ground. "Yup," he answered, followed by the tell-tale sound of cuffs clicking around a wrist. "Let me get him in the cruiser, I'll be right back."

Marc swore all the way to the cruiser as he was arrested and read his rights. His drug-addled rants mercifully stopped when he was pushed in the back seat and the door slammed. By the time Nolan returned, Emma was sitting up, blinking. He tossed her an ice pack, already cracked and cold. "Better ice that or it's gonna swell something fierce. You think you can drive?"

"Yeah."

"I put him in your cruiser, why don't you take him to the hospital and while you're there get that checked out. I'll talk to the parents and handle the paperwork." He reached down, grabbed her by the forearm and helped her to her feet.

"Sounds good."

As she walked to the car, she heard her name. "Chief?" She turned and one-eyed spied a grinning Nolan. "You gonna make Bell pay for his?"

Emma smirked and nodded, Nolan's hearty laugh echoing as she swung into the driver's seat and hit the lights. "Hey, Marc," she called sternly toward the back seat. The man was laying flat across the bench seat, Nolan must have zip-tied his ankles once he was in the cruiser. "You see those flowers on the floor back there?"

"Yeah?" His voice was much quieter, the adrenaline wearing off, the fight sobering him up a touch.

"They're for my girlfriend. Fuck them up and _you will not like_ how I transport you into detox, got it?"

"I didn't touch them!" Now he sounded scared. "They're fine. I'm sure…I'm sure she's going to love them. That's very romantic."

Emma chuckled. _You never know what you're going to get with a tweaker._ "I thought so."

XXXX

**Will be a little late. Busy day. Be home by 5:30.**

Five seconds after Emma sent the text she realized her wording. Home? _Shit, I hope that doesn't freak her out._ She tried to think up an explanation if it was questioned. _The damn phone deleted some words, it should have read 'I'll be at your home by 5:30.' Ha, ha, technology, right? Sheesh._

Regina was carefully placing cut-up squash in a pot of boiling water when she heard her phone buzz with a new message. She placed the cover on the pot, wiped her hands on her apron and pulled up the message. Her heart warmed as she sent a reply.

_Home will be happy to see you then._

Emma grinned. _Guess I don't need that explanation_.

Setting the cover on the boiling squash-filled pot, Regina assessed her situation. Henry was playing in another room and she was dressed – blouse, slacks and apron – cooking Thanksgiving dinner in anticipation of Emma's return. Her kitchen was organized chaos: it all seemed so right, so filled with promise. She realized she was so damn happy; grateful tears welled in her eyes.

Previous Thanksgivings all seemed awkward and forced, as if cooking a turkey was an obligation not a celebration, like her first without Daniel. Henry was an infant and Kathryn came over to help her cook. Except the women drank too much wine, too early and forgot about the turkey, which was then dried out beyond repair. They laughed until they cried, and then Regina just cried as this was not how her first Thanksgiving with her child was supposed to go. She was supposed to be cooking for her husband, fighting over the wishbone and changing diapers, not crying into her friend's embrace as her infant wailed in solidarity in the background. Subsequent years were better – they learned to pace each other on the wine front – but still had a deep vein of melancholy running through. Until now.

The timer dinged, snapping her out of her reverie, returning to a much happier, more hopeful, time and place. No, today she was truly thankful, for the first time in years.

XXXX

Regina heard the doorbell and tried to will herself to walk, not run, to answer. Henry beat her easily, charging full-tilt out of the parlor. "Cheef's here! Cheef's here!"

She pulled the door open, beaming, joy morphing into panic when she saw her girlfriend's face.

"My God, what happened?"

"I'm OK."

"You don't look OK!" Regina was veering close to a shriek, spying Emma's swollen eye, which was starting to darken.

Henry initially was awed by Emma's patrol uniform; like his mother, he had never seen her in it. "Wow!" He ran his tiny hands along her duty belt, tapping her nightstick, jiggling her handcuffs. "I like this," he noted in awe. The boy looked skyward for a response and spying her face, held his arms high in a silent request to be picked up. "You got a boo-boo," he noted sadly, hugging her once at eye-level.

"I do, but I'll be OK."

"I kiss it." He leaned in and gently kissed her brow. "It's cold!" he giggled.

"Cold helps make it better."

"Play trains with me later?"

Emma was starting to love the simple thought processes of a preschooler: You're not dead? Good, play with me.

"Yeah and we have a parade to watch together, too, right?"

"Yay!" He hugged her one more time and then wriggled to be set down. As soon as Henry was out of Emma's arms, Regina was in them, embracing her tightly.

"What happened?" Alarm had been replaced with concerned brown eyes. Regina skimmed her fingers over the ice-cold, swollen flesh. Emma grinned. "First things first." She kissed Regina thoroughly, lips slipping and sliding slowly, noses nuzzling. "Mmmm, I feel better already. God, I've been thinking about that all day."

The loving statement momentarily caused Regina to forget. "Emma…" she warned.

"It's not a big deal, I got elbowed by a junkie."

"How on earth…"

"I was sent to a domestic call over on Pitney. Grown, estranged son was not invited for turkey. Shows up anyway. Parents call the cops. I show up…" Emma imitated a trumpet fanfare, "and he's all tweaked out. I call Nolan for backup, the guy freaks thinking we're bringing him to detox."

"What do you mean 'tweak'?" Emma loved that someone in her life did not know the definition of that word.

"Someone who has taken meth for a few straight days, no sleep, crazy paranoid and jumpy."

"Lovely. Shouldn't holidays be slow when it comes to police calls?"

"You'd think so but, no - especially Thanksgiving, Christmas and Mother's and Father's Day. Domestic calls are common and usually really ugly."

"That's terrible."

"I agree. So, long story short, I call Nolan for backup, he shows up, the guy tries to jump through the picture window. We subdue him and as I was trying to cuff him, he threw an elbow and caught me in the eye."

Regina carefully traced the wound with her fingertips. "Did you see a doctor?"

"Yeah, after I dropped him off at the detox ward, I went to the ER. Nothing's broken, no blood in my eye or blurred vision."

"What about a concussion?"

"I don't think I took that hard a hit. But they checked me out. Got the all-clear."

Regina embraced her girlfriend once more, hugging her tight.

"You know what would make me feel better?"

Regina pulled back and narrowed her eyes warily. "What?"

"Turkey." Emma smiled wide.

"Well, then, Dr. Mills has just the thing for you…" Regina giggled and leaned forward, their foreheads touching.

"Let me get a quick shower, change and I'll be right back down. I won't be wearing the uniform tonight, wanna get a good look before it comes off?" she teased, slowly turning in a 360. Regina eyes were hungry as she watched every degree of the turn. "Oh, I almost forgot."

Emma walked back to the door and rescued the bouquet she had placed on the ground when she picked up Henry. In all her panic, Regina hadn't noticed Emma was carrying a dozen roses.

"For you."

"When did you…" She trailed off, amazed by the gesture. She couldn't remember the last time someone brought her flowers.

"I have my ways," Emma smiled cagily.

"They're beautiful."

"Then they're perfect for you." She bussed Regina on the tip of her nose and headed for the stairs.

Emma ran upstairs to shower and change, entering the kitchen 20 minutes later in a cable knit sweater and jeans. "I didn't bring nice pants, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I wanted to look nice for your dinner."

"You're gorgeous." Regina's reply was instant and so sincere Emma blushed.

"Stop," she smiled bashfully, "you're making me all red."

Regina chuckled as she stirred the gravy. "My big, tough, junkie-fighting cop can't take a compliment? How cute."

_My cop_. A shiver of electricity ran through Emma's torso at the possessive comment. Emma walked up behind the brunette and rested her head on Regina's shoulder, winding her arms around a trim waist. "That smells amazing. You smell amazing." She tilted her head and kissed Regina on the neck with a hum. "Have you been cooking all day?"

"I smell like turkey," she laughed. "Yes, most of it."

"Can I help?"

Emma set the table and started ferrying dishes to the dining room while Regina carved the golden brown bird. Henry sat at the head of the table, Regina and Emma facing each other on either side, the dozen roses in the center of all the food.

"Dig in," she smiled.

Emma's head swam with sheer contentment as she ate. Regina smiled at the woman who looked like the picture of peace. "What are you thinking about?"

"Past Thanksgivings." She carefully loaded her fork once more, trying to find the perfect ratio of turkey to potatoes to dressing. "Are there oysters in the stuffing?"

Regina nodded, while Emma hummed in approval. "God, it's good. Anyway, I would always be invited to join someone's dinner after my shift. And I always felt like a guest. People were nice, you know, but I didn't belong, if that makes sense. I was always 'Emma, so-and-so's friend from work.'"

She chewed, reflecting on the questions others would kindly ask – they always fell into two categories: What's it like being a cop? and Where are you from? The latter always transitioned into the ever-awkward "Do you have family in the area?" the unasked "and why aren't you with them?" implied. Emma learned early on to simply lie and say her family was across the country; it was just easier for everyone.

"But here…" Emma paused. _Is this too much, too soon? Will I scare her? _Emma hadn't done relationships, but even she realized that problems usually stemmed from too little honesty, not too much. She reached across the table and held out her hand, Regina meeting it with her own. "I don't feel like a guest here. I feel like I am wanted, like I belong."

Regina nearly gasped, the naked emotion on display across the blonde's face. "You _are_ wanted. You _do_ belong." The strong, commanding voice belied the gentle smile on her face.

"I…love…you….CHEEF!" The 3-year-old's non sequitur grew in volume and excitement, the last word practically hollered. The women laughed, looking at each other in confusion. _Was he listening? How on earth could he understand?_

"Love you, bud." Emma smiled to herself. The response, practically choked out in astonishment just yesterday, felt so natural and right today. "This is the best Thanksgiving Day ever."

"Even though you got punched in the face?"

"Definitely."

With his mother and his idol entranced with each other, Henry tried to sneakily slide out of his seat and the room.

"Darling, finish your turkey and one more bite of squash and I'll bring out dessert," Regina directed, never once looking in his direction, her eyes trained on loving green across the table.

"That was a little scary," Emma laughed. "C'mon, man, you can do it. I want dessert, too."

"Don't wanna." Henry's bottom lip turned out in a determined pout as he huffed back into his seat. The women tried not to laugh, it was more adorable than annoying.

"C'mon. For me? Do you know police officers need to eat a lot of squash?" This was true, at least, in Emma's case, she loved it. "I'll take a bite with you."

Emma loaded up a big forkful for herself, Henry followed suit to a lesser degree. "1…2…3!" Both diners ate their food, Henry swallowing with a proud grin.

"Yeah! You did it! Nice job!" Emma praised, offering him a high-five. Regina watched, impressed. It would have taken her at least 10 more minutes of bargaining to seal the deal. Upstaged, she returned her napkin to the table. "Be right back."

XXXX

Post dessert, cleanup and dishwasher loading, the trio was seated in what was becoming Emma's favorite spot – on the couch in front of the fire. Henry again sat in between the women, draped over both of them as if to claim possession: _They're mine_. Emma's arm once more snaked over the back of the couch, bypassing Henry, her fingers landing in Regina's sleek, black hair, playing with it idly as floats, minor celebrities, advertisers and bands colorfully marched by thanks to the DVR'd Macy's parade.

Henry lasted an hour before Emma heard him snoring softly on her lap, resplendent in blue and green fleece pajamas that featured historically accurate dancing dinosaurs. Regina watched as the blonde stared at the boy with a look of awe, gently brushing the bangs out off his closed eyes.

Emma felt Regina's gaze, so strong it nearly hummed. "I'll take him up," Regina whispered. "Be right back." Emma helped lift the boy into his mother's practiced embrace, then leaned back against the couch, the scent of turkey still heavy in the air, trying to sort out what she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it. Before a finished draft was complete in her head, Regina returned and curled herself into Emma's embrace on the couch.

"Hi," the brunette purred, her lips meeting Emma's languidly. The blonde could detect pumpkin and coffee on Regina's lips and tongue, which were slowly mapping every centimeter of her mouth. It was like making out with her favorite cup of coffee.

"Mmmmm, you taste amazing."

Regina purred in response, as her hands wound themselves into Emma's hair. She somehow maneuvered herself under Emma, her legs instinctively capturing Emma's thigh between them. While Regina's mind wasn't quite sure what to do – she figured the blonde curls were an easy location – her body certainly did. Lost in sensation, Emma began licking and kissing a path down Regina's neck, inviting moans and a slow roll of the brunette's hips against her leg. Regina could feel the heat of arousal flaring higher than it had in years, sensations and desire mounting quickly.

When Emma's lips and tongue reached the end of the opening of the brunette's shirt, they stayed put, licking and sucking just south of her collarbone, as her hands slowly moved down Regina's torso to the sides of firm, generous, and unfortunately bra-clad breasts. Emma groaned in appreciation as she lustily grabbed a handful, thumbs ghosting over points straining under the surface. It felt so good Regina gasped with need.

She was about to undo the top straining, taunting button of Regina's shirt when she realized: _Shit. Shitshitshit._

"I'm sorry," she panted, removing her hands and sitting up and off the brunette. "I didn't mean—"

"What, did I—"

"No, I…just…hold on." Emma sat up, flushed and grabbed one of Regina's hands to steady her. "I said yesterday you set the pace and here I was about to rip your shirt off." Regina smiled coyly, that didn't sound like a bad idea at all. "I know it's been a while since you've been in a relationship." She tried to find the phrasing that would be least painful or insulting to her girlfriend and hoped that did the trick. "And I'm guessing you've never been with a woman."

Regina nodded, cheeks stained red with want and need. "I just want to make sure you take your time and don't feel rushed into anything – physically or emotionally." Emma found brown eyes and held them, hoping to underscore the importance of her message. "I want this. I want you. And I don't want to mess this up by rushing into it or pushing you before you're ready."

Dipping her head bashfully, Regina grabbed Emma's other hand. "You're not going to mess this up. Do you know me as someone who just leaps into something without thinking? Especially when it involves her son?"

Emma shook her head then looked away, the reassurance not as comforting as Regina had hoped. "It's just…I don't know how to love very well. I've never felt like this before about anyone. I've never wanted a relationship like I want with you."

"Well, you're in luck," she smiled, squeezing their joined hands for comfort. "I _do_ know how to love very well."

"I can't stand the thought of hurting you… or Henry. I can't hurt him Regina, I just can't." Emma's face twisted at the very thought.

"Are you planning on going anywhere soon?"

"No." The response was steadfast and serious.

"Then he won't get hurt. I won't get hurt. And you have nothing to worry about." Regina pulled her girlfriend in for a hug, rubbing her back soothingly. She felt Emma yawn over her shoulder. "C'mon, let's go to bed."

Emma pulled back. "Huh?"

"We're going to bed. You. Me. My bed." She stood and pulled Emma up by the hands. "You are going to snuggle with me and fall asleep with me in my bed because I cannot stand the thought of you in the guest room for a second night. Got it?"

Emma nodded dumbly and let herself be led upstairs. She changed in the main bath while Regina departed for the en suite, emerging makeup free and pajama-clad, a bookend to their meeting in the hall that morning. She climbed into her side of the bed and turned down the sheets on the other side, patting it. Emma sank in and groaned internally, the damn thing was even more comfortable than she imagined and every inch smelled like Regina, as if having the real article 6 inches away wasn't good enough.

The brunette's eyes sparkled brightly as she eyed her bedmate. She stroked one side of Emma's face with her hand and thumb and pulled her into a chaste kiss. "How's your eye? You OK?"

"More than OK," Emma smiled.

"Good." Regina settled on her side and pulled Emma's arm around her torso. The solid, blanketing weight behind her felt so natural, so comfortable, so right. It had been so long. "I assume you're the big spoon?" Regina teased.

Emma chuckled, pulling her tighter, sinking her nose into smooth black hair. "You could say that."

Six hours later, still tucked into Regina, Emma fought to resist the pull of consciousness sparked by a gentle tapping on her temple.

"You in my spot," came the stage whisper from the boy who was straddling her hips like a horse.

A mumble was the only response.

"Cheef, you in my spot."

Emma grunted and rolled away from Regina, just enough to fit Henry. She patted the mattress with a sleepy groan, the child happily wedging himself in between his two favorite women, chasing Emma back into slumber as she flung an instinctive, protective arm back over mother and son.

XXXX

Regina awoke the next morning and sleepily grinned in contentment, rolling over to reach for the warm body at her back to find…Henry?

"Hi Momma," yawned the only other occupant of the bed. _Oh, no. Where is…_

"Hey," Emma smiled, striding back into the room, redressed in last night's clothes. "I came in to say bye. Some of us have to work this morning," she winked, "and my chief–wear is back at my place. Gotta head back early and grab a shower." She knelt down at Regina's side of the bed and leaned in for a quick kiss. "I'm sorry."

"No, of course."

"Plus, that one tried to steal my spot," she teased.

"'s my spot!" the boy giggled.

"Oh, really?"

Henry tried to adopt his most serious face, which was laugh-inducing. "Can we share?" he asked, brightening with the idea. The question melted both women's hearts.

"Aww, bud. Yeah, we can. Thank you."

"Did he kick you?" Regina whispered.

"Not too bad. I kinda liked it." She reached up and cupped Regina's face. "Talk to you tonight?"

"I don't want to sound really needy, but would you like to come over for dinner? I have turkey." Regina giggled at her lame justification. _I am needy._ Now that she had a couple of days with Emma in her house, she never wanted it to end.

"I would like that very much." Emma stood, leaning in for one final kiss. "I'll be over around 5, OK?"

"Be safe," Regina breathed.

"You come back?" Henry nearly shouted as the blonde walked out the door. She stopped and turned.

"I'll come back."

XXXX

The blonde kept her promise, knocking at her favorite front door right on time, unmolested by the general public, now one day in a row. Her swollen eye was still bulging a bit, darkening sickly, a dramatic contrast against her light hair and fair skin.

"Jeezum Crow!" Martha howled when Emma walked into the station that morning. "That's a helluva shiner." Bell spent the morning apologizing profusely while Nolan teased his younger colleague mercilessly. By lunchtime, Emma had to tell both of them to knock it off; they were as bad as brother and sister.

"You two, enough! Bell, I will be fine. Nolan," she smiled. "you're the one who couldn't hold him." The petite blonde tittered. Emma met her with a wink. "You owe me one, got it?"

The door swung open, a smiling brunette on the other end. Both women stepped forward and into each other's hungry embrace, Emma closing the door shut behind her with her foot, hands otherwise occupied. She was just about to snake out her tongue when the house phone rang. Grumbling, Regina reluctantly pulled away, picked up the handset and was greeted brusquely: "I'll be at your place in 15 minutes with Ruby, Hunter and dinner. Plan accordingly."

"That sounds like a threat."

"It's a lovely gesture. Fifteen."

Regina smiled. The woman was a lunatic, which only made her love her more.

"What was that?" Emma scooped Regina back into her arms.

"Kathryn. She informed me she is showing up with Ruby, Hunter and dinner in 15 minutes."

"Is this a common occurrence?"

"Bringing an entourage and food? No. Popping in? Yes. And she usually eats my food," Regina noted wryly.

"Those two together? I haven't known them as long as you, but that can't be good. Ruby knows how I feel about you, I wonder if—"

Regina's eyes widened. "Kathryn knows how I feel about _you_."

"Oh, boy."

Regina leaned into her girlfriend and claimed her lips in a kiss. "At least we get fed."

"When they get here, wanna just go for it, like, open the door while we're making out?" Emma's torso warmed dangerously as she imagined pushing Regina up against the wall and getting her hands on that delicious chest again.

"They'd probably take pictures."

The couple opted to let their friends stew, which they did, playing it cool and nonchalant until the boys were fed, off and playing. The four soon found themselves sitting around the kitchen table in an awkward silence.

"So, anything you want to tell us?" Kathryn asked coyly, nibbling on her crust.

Regina and Emma looked at each other, confused. "Thanks for the pizza?" Emma offered. Regina pulled a mushroom off Emma's slice and added it to her plate.

"Anything about yourselves?" Ruby added.

Regina smirked. "That I like pizza?" She grabbed the pilfered mushroom and deposited it on her slice, about to dig in.

"How about you tell us why your hand is resting on Emma's thigh?" Kathryn smirked.

_Took them long enough._ "Oh," she smiled absentmindedly. "Have you met my girlfriend, Emma?"

"Fuckin-A finally!" Ruby hollered over Kathryn's simultaneous, "Praise, Jesus!"

The women laughed in relief, the false tension in the room dissipated. Emma grabbed Regina's hand on her thigh and brought it to her lips to kiss the knuckles.

"Of course you're chivalrous. _Of course._" Kathryn sipped her gin and tonic. "This town has fuck-all for eligible men, I'm switching teams."

"I don't know a woman who could handle you, dear," Regina snorted.

_I do_, Emma thought. _I wonder if she's serious_. Regina caught Emma's pensive stare into the wall. "What?"

"Nothing, anyway. Yes, I am a catch." Emma held her arms out to the side, palms up, in false modesty.

"I'll say." Regina blushed at the thought of just how catchable Emma was.

"Oooh, look at that! This is going to be great," Ruby crowed. "We're going to have unlimited 'Let's make Regina blush' opportunities. Yeah! Thanks, Emma."

"Gin and tonic and pizza. Aren't you classy?" Regina needled Kathryn, trying to change the subject.

"Shut up. So, what the hell happened to your face? Acrobatic sex?" Kathryn asked Emma innocently. Regina's blush returned immedoately. "Oh, my God, I am loving you two already."

"Nah, domestic yesterday. Meth head freaked out he was disinvited to family dinner."

Ruby leaned in, concerned. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, swelling's down. Now it just looks horrible. No big."

Ruby turned to Regina. "Are you prepared to date a cop? You worry… a lot." Regina paled a bit; she hadn't yet considered that part of the relationship. _What if something serious happened to Emma?_

"Hey." Emma swung her arm around Regina's shoulders, she could easily decipher her girlfriend's reaction. "This is Storybrooke. I think I'm pretty safe, OK?" She kissed Regina's temple, secretly sticking her tongue out unseen to tickle the patch of skin she just bussed. "Don't worry."

Kathryn and Ruby awwwed in unison, while Regina nodded. "You know who needs to worry?" Emma joked, eyes narrowing. "These two."

The cohorts held up their hands palms out. "Hey, we didn't do anything, other than make you two come to your senses," Kathryn noted.

"Can we have some more juice boxes?" Henry asked, running into the kitchen.

"So, Hen, what's shakin'?" He eyed his "aunt" like she had two heads. "What's new?"

Comprehension sparked in big brown eyes. _Oh._ "Cheef got a boo boo. It's yucky."

"I saw," she nodded sympathetically, raising the highball glass for another sip.

"And she stole my place in Momma's bed this morning!" Henry giggled, somehow instinctively knowing he was sharing privileged information.

Unfortunately, Kathryn was mid-sip when the boy announced the news, which caused her to snort stinging gin and tonic up – but not out – her nose. Emma winced in solidarity, between the carbonation and the gin, that must have hurt like a bitch. Regina turned red, Ruby hooted and Emma leaned over to rap the principal on the back a few times to help her out. The woman coughed for half a minute, trying to get her breathing under control. Unfazed, mission apparently accomplished, Henry left the room with his juice boxes and went to find his friend.

"Serves you right!" Regina scolded. "Trying to weasel information out of a boy."

The women visited until it got close to little boys' bedtimes. They all bused glasses, plates and dishes, then exited the kitchen, Kathryn grabbing Emma and keeping her behind.

"Hurt her and I'll kill you," she stated, only half-joking.

Emma met her stare with serious, sincere eyes, "If I do, I'll deserve it. But I won't." Patting her on the shoulder, Kathryn nodded. "Thanks for taking care of her before I got here," Emma added, her throat suddenly tight with emotion.

Kathryn looked at those green eyes, instantly shiny. _Christ, this is the real deal._ _Thank God._ Her voice was soft and sincere in reply. "No problem."

The women said their goodbyes, the solid thud of the front door shutting behind them as Hunter ran ahead. The friends sighed contently as they walked to the car: Mission accomplished.

"If they don't book a hall within a year," Kathryn noted playfully, "I'll enter amateur night at The Rusty Scupper."

"Well, shit. Now I don't know who to root for."

**TBC**

**Reviews sincerely appreciated.**


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